


One-Who-Knows-Tones

by TonalModulator



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Genre: Dwemer - Freeform, Gen, first council, pre-Battle of Red Mountain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22551679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TonalModulator/pseuds/TonalModulator
Summary: A young tonal architect impresses everyone with her scholarly aptitude, and then spends the rest of her life crashing and burning.
Relationships: Bthunkagr & First Council, Bthunkagr & Kagrenac, Bthunkagr & Sotha Sil, Kagrenac & Original Character, Kagrenac & Original Dwemer Character, Sotha Sil & Original Dwemer Character
Comments: 22
Kudos: 22





	1. The Naming Ceremony

**Author's Note:**

> Bthunkagr is technically an LDB, but I don't plan on getting to Skyrim in this fic. This is her backstory, covering who she was before she ended up in Skyrim, and why she didn't disappear with the rest of the Dwemer. This is sort of the expanded version of [this post](https://tonal-modulator.tumblr.com/post/190267122013/meet-bthunkagr) from my Tumblr.

### 11 Sun’s Height, 1E 648

The Naming Ceremony was one of the few special occasions that the Dwemer observed. Some of the more religious peoples might call it a holiday, and indeed, there were similarities. It was an event observed—celebrated, even—throughout the people, a life-cycle event with great cultural significance. But it also differed from holidays as understood by non-Dwemer. It honored no gods, nor spirits, only mortals. And it was not held cyclically, but rather when it was deemed necessary by a quorum of department chiefs.

The purpose of the Naming Ceremony was simple enough to the Dwemer, although it always seemed to confuse outsiders. It was a meeting at which Dwemer citizens were given the names that would define them for the rest of their lives. Of course, young Dwemer had “names” even before they were honored at a Naming Ceremony, but these were children’s names, given by their parents and designed to lack any true meaning. Names given at the ceremony were selected by the community leaders to reflect the person’s true nature. The newly Named Dwemer would leave their birth name behind as part of the process of taking on their more personalized identity.

The upcoming Naming Ceremony was drawing more attention than usual from the general public. One of the mer to be Named was a mere thirty-eight years old. She was to graduate from the Academy the week before the ceremony with a degree in tonal architecture. That alone was unusual—most graduates from the Academy were at least forty, and students of tonal architecture were often even older. But even then, it was usually a number of years before a graduate was formally Named. Most Dwemer had to wait until close to the end of their first century; being Named before even age fifty was all but unheard of.

Rumors surrounding this mer swept throughout the underground of Vvardenfell like messenger spiders. Some people knew of her or her work personally. Others knew only of second- or third-hand accounts. The one thing they could all agree on was that there was something special about her.

* * *

The young mer woke up from restless sleep on the morning of the Naming Ceremony. She bathed in cleansing vibrations and then donned the ornate robes that had been provided for her just days earlier. Turning to the mirror, she proceeded to work on her hair. Normally, she tied it back—it was easy to get it stuck in machinery otherwise. Today, however, she decided to let the purple locks flow freely down past her shoulders. It was a special occasion, after all. Of course, the color would serve to highlight her young age, but she allowed herself the indulgence. It wasn’t as if she would fool anyone if she let it return to its natural coppery brown, anyway, especially since her beard—also purple, of course—was not even long enough to braid. Once she was satisfied with her formal attire, she headed for the presentation hall where the ceremony would be held.

She stood on the dais of the presentation hall with the rest of the mer to be Named while the Chief Archivist, Thumzac, introduced the ceremony. He went on and on about what an honor it is to receive one’s Name, how the department chiefs put great thought into each Name and only bestowed one when the person was ready, how these mer were standing on the threshold of actualization…every Dwemer in attendance had heard it all countless times.

Finally, Thumzac explained the actual process of the ceremony. Each mer to be Named would be called up to the front of the dais, accompanied by the department chiefs who were most involved in selecting their Name. Those chiefs would make a brief introduction and then present the mer with a mantle with their new Name inscribed on it. The Named mer would then put on the mantle and introduce themselves by name to the audience.

With the explanations concluded, the ceremony began. One by one, the mer were brought to the front and mantled with their new Name. Most were accompanied by one or two chiefs whom they had served before. When the young mer with the purple hair was called to the front, two chiefs rose to join her. The first was Nchuanac, the Chief Scholar and head of the Academy from which she had just graduated. That much was expected. But her heart skipped when she saw that the other was the Chief Tonal Architect, Kagrenac.

Of course, she had always hoped that she might one day have the honor of meeting Kagrenac—as a student of tonal architecture, she looked to Kagrenac as a role model. But to think that the Chief Tonal Architect not only knew who she was, but had taken on the responsibility of Naming her? It was more than she had ever dared to dream.

Nchuanac and Kagrenac spoke of the mer’s accomplishments thus far. They told of the advancements she had made in tonal architecture, the work she had published, how she had graduated at such a young age, and how they were excited to see her grow into her newly refined identity. Then they each took hold of the mantle and presented it to the mer.

“In the presence of the community,” they said in practiced unison, “we name you Bthunkagr.”

“Bthunkagr,” she repeated quietly as she accepted the mantle. She stood processing it for a moment. Any Name with _bthun_ —“know”—was a high honor indeed, if she understood correctly. The murmurs throughout the audience, carried to the dais by the hall’s acoustics, provided support for her suspicion. The morpheme was only ever given to scholars who showed great aptitude in their area of study. In fact, as far as she was aware, there had never been a Bthunkagr before. If that was how they saw her, then she realized it made perfect sense for the Chief Tonal Architect to participate in the Naming of the One-Who-Knows-Tones.

She put on the mantle. It was heavier than she expected, but that felt appropriate. She was now realizing that there was a great weight to both the honor and the responsibility that came with her new Name. Before today, she had never understood why people seemed nervous before their Naming. Now, seeing the expectations that came with her Name, she understood very well.

Facing the audience, she raised her voice and said, “I am Bthunkagr.”


	2. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bthunkagr attends a dinner with the First Council.

### 2 Hearthfire, 1E648

After the Naming Ceremony, Kagrenac had offered Bthunkagr a position as a researcher in her lab, and Bthunkagr had accepted the position with great enthusiasm, beginning work the following week. Today, Kagrenac approached Bthunkagr as the work day was concluding.

“Bthunkagr,” she greeted the young mer. Her voice was carefully crafted: at once soothing and carrying a commanding energy that would make even the Nord tongues take notes. “You speak Chimeris, correct?”

“Yes, Kagrenac.” All Dwemer students had studied Chimeris since the formation of the First Council, as they did not expect the Chimer to learn their language with any success.

“Good. The First Council will be assembling for a dinner one week from tonight. The others have heard of your recent Naming and would like to meet you. Would you attend?”

“I would be honored.”

Kagrenac gave her a simple nod and started to walk away, but turned back.

“Ah, try to come up with a very simple explanation of your studies for the dinner. Something a non-Dwemer would understand,” she said. With a smile, she added, “Think of it as a challenge.”

### 9 Hearthfire, 1E648

The dinner was hosted by the Chimer and held at Kogoruhn, the seat of the Chimeri Great House Dagoth. The location was a gesture of courtesy, allowing the Dwemer to stay close to their capital at Red Mountain, while requiring most of the Chimer to travel. House Dagoth also had a history of easy relations with the Dwemer, even in the past when they were not allies.

Bthunkagr and Kagrenac traveled together via recall device, a mechanism that allowed teleportation between a number of Dwemer sites, and to a few sites outside Dwemer holdings. As soon as they arrived, they were greeted by a Chimer glimmering in ornate finery. Bthunkagr immediately felt underdressed in her clean-yet-simple robes.

“Ah, Serjo Kagrenac,” he said with a deep, flourishing bow. “It’s wonderful to see you.” He turned his attention to Bthunkagr. “And you, sera, are you the One-Who-Knows-Tones?”

“Yes, I am Bthunkagr,” she said with a polite smile.

“Bthunkagr,” he repeated the Dwemeri name with surprising accuracy. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Sera Bthunkagr. In fact, we have all been anxious to meet you. Congratulations on your Naming, by the way. Serjo Kagrenac would never admit it, but she has been speaking excitedly of your skill for some time.”

“Nonsense,” Kagrenac said, but the twinkle in her eye suggested otherwise.

“But, I have gotten ahead of myself! I am Voryn, Lord High Councilor of the Great House Dagoth, and advisor to Muthsera Indoril Nerevar.”

“Pleased to meet you, Serjo Dagoth.”

Voryn led them into his manor, where a few other members of the Council were already waiting. A mer in less flashy, yet still stunningly elegant attire and curly red hair came over to greet them.

“Serjo Almalexia, a pleasure to see you,” Kagrenac said. She seemed slightly more at ease with this mer than she had been with Voryn. “I would like to introduce you to Bthunkagr. Bthunkagr, you have the honor of meeting Serjo Almalexia, Queen of Mournhold, High Councilor of the Great House Indoril, and advisor and wife to Indoril Nerevar.”

“I am pleased to meet you, Bthunkagr,” Almalexia said. “Have you met my husband yet?”

“I have not, serjo.”

Almalexia held out a hand. “Come, I can introduce you. He’s just over here, with Dumac. Of course, you know Dumac.” She paused and looked back at Bthunkagr. “ _Do_ you know Dumac?”

“I have not met him in person.”

Almalexia glanced to Kagrenac.

“I will be right beside you,” Kagrenac said.

They walked toward two mer engaged in an animated conversation, each with a drink in hand. They paused and looked over when they saw the three approaching.

“Ah, what joy!” the Chimer said, addressing them with a bow. “Serjo Kagrenac, such a pleasure to see you!”

Kagrenac gave him a small bow in return.

“May I introduce you to Bthunkagr, Kagrenac’s protégée,” Almalexia said.

“Bthunkagr, so pleased to meet you!” the Chimer said. “I am Indoril Nerevar, Hortator and First Councillor.”

She bowed in Chimeri fashion, though her attention was nervously shifting toward the Dwemer next to him.

“Bthunkagr, this is Duumaka, our king,” Kagrenac said, using the Dwemeri name instead of the Chimeri version.

Bthunkagr crossed her arms over her chest and bowed her head in a typical Dwemeri show of respect, and Dumac returned the gesture.

“‘Protégée?’” Dumac laughed. “A fancy word, but I’d say it’s true. Kagrenac has been talking about you nonstop since before your Naming.”

“Utter nonsense,” Kagrenac said again.

The House servants began to lay out the dinner just as the last two Chimer arrived. Bthunkagr would learn that they were Sotha Sil and Vehk, both advisors to Nerevar.

Bthunkagr took a seat safely beside Kagrenac, and Almalexia sat to her other side, on her husband’s left, while Voryn sat at his Hortator’s right hand. Sil was across from Bthunkagr, with Vehk beside the Dwarf-king, who was across the table from Nerevar. They made small talk while they ate, which was strictly enforced by Voryn, who would give a sharp look to anyone who strayed into politics at the dinner table.

“Bthunkagr,” Sil said. “You study under Serjo Kagrenac, correct? Would you tell us about your work?”

“Of course, serjo,” Bthunkagr said, making a mental note to thank Kagrenac for the warning. “We study the fundamental frequencies of the earth-bones and how to draw those frequencies out into pure tones so that we can use those tones as tools. In the Academy, I devised a new method of fragmenting the pure tones, but it was a complicated method that works better in theory than in practice. In Serjo Kagrenac’s lab, I have been working on refining that method into something that might actually be more useful than existing methods.”

Most of their eyes had glossed over by the time she was done. Bthunkagr felt her face grow hot.

“Simpler than that,” Kagrenac whispered in Dwemeris, though her tone was amused rather than chiding.

Sil, however, set down his fork and folded his hands, apparently enraptured by the explanation. “Fascinating. Simply fascinating. Fundamental frequencies of the earth-bones…I’ve never heard it described that way, but it greatly helps with visualization.”

He steepled his fingers in front of his face and furrowed his brow, apparently deep in thought. Bthunkagr noticed that his arms seemed Dwemeri in style, but made with somewhat outdated parts, not all of which were even typically used in prosthetics. She wondered idly if he had made them himself.

“Any method of fragmenting tones that I have encountered takes a whole room’s worth of equipment,” he said. “Do you really think you can turn it into something manageable?”

“That’s the goal, serjo. In the short term, I hope to make a device that one can use in a small space, such as a workbench. In the long term, maybe even something one can hold in their hand.”

“I would love to see that,” Sil said. “Imagine the applications…Well, I’m sure you already have. Regardless, fascinating work, truly.”

“I stand corrected,” Kagrenac murmured, speaking Dwemeris again. “It seems you’ve made a friend.”


	3. Science friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bthunkagr goes to Mournhold and becomes science friends with Sotha Sil.

### 13 Hearthfire, 1E 648

Kagrenac approached Bthunkagr during lunch and presented her with a sealed letter.

“I have a communication for you from Sotha Sil, which was delivered to me by Voryn Dagoth. It seems you’ve made an impression,” she said with a small, but warm, smile.

With clear curiosity, Bthunkagr took the letter and thanked Kagrenac, and Kagrenac nodded and took her leave. Bthunkagr remembered Sotha Sil as the nice one from the dinner a few days earlier. Of course, they were all nice enough, but Sil had been the only one who actually seemed interested in talking to her, beyond obligatory small talk. He had actively engaged her in discussion of her work even when the rest of them seemed bored. She wondered if this communication indicated that Sil had enjoyed their discussions as well.

She broke the seal and read the letter written in precise Daedric script.

> Sera Bthunkagr,
> 
> I hope this letter finds you well. It was very nice to meet you at the First Council dinner. Your explanations of your research left me intrigued, and I find myself with a number of follow-up questions. I would like to extend to you an invitation to visit Mournhold, where we may continue our discussions. Please let me know if this would be of interest to you.
> 
> Warm regards,  
>  Sotha Sil

She smiled to herself as she read the letter. It had been nice of him to talk to her at the dinner, and it was nicer still to learn that he was doing it out of genuine interest. The contents of the letter stayed on her mind through the rest of the work day, and she found herself drafting a response in her head as she worked.

At one point in her ruminations, however, Bthunkagr came upon a worry. She wondered whether she should bring the worry up to Kagrenac. Of course, it was customary for chiefs to advise common Dwemer in topics related to day-to-day life, especially for those chiefs in direct mentorship to younger Dwemer. Plus, Kagrenac was part of the First Council and might be able to answer based on personal experience. But she was also unsure whether it was a little too delicate, and something that she should just handle on her own.

She was still worried by the end of the day, and so she decided to talk to Kagrenac. First, she told Kagrenac of the contents of the letter, and found herself smiling again, this time because Kagrenac was wearing an expression that looked somewhat like pride.

“What I am wondering is, well, whether I should take it at face value. I mean, you know, the Chimer have some different practices, as far as I understand, what with their veneration of Mephala…” She felt her face turning a deep red, while Kagrenac seemed to be suppressing a laugh. She tried to push herself to get to the point. “This isn’t some sort of Chimeri code for anything, is it?”

“From Sotha Sil, no; I think you can take it at face value,” Kagrenac assured her. “Keep an eye on that Hortator, though,” she added with a dry smile. “The way I understand it, he has, shall we say, had follow-up discussions with almost the entire First Council.” With a pointed look, she reiterated, “ _Almost._ ”

### 23 Hearthfire, 1E 648

On the day that they were to meet, Bthunkagr took a recall device to Bamz-Amschend, which surfaced just outside of Mournhold. As was her usual impression from the few times that she had been to Chimeri cities, it was both brighter and duller than she was accustomed to. The sun was nearly blinding, to the point where she considered looking into some sort of eye protection. And yet, there was none of the usual brazen glimmer that characterized Dwemeri cities.

She wandered to the city gates and found Sotha Sil waiting for her, as planned.

“Sera Bthunkagr,” he greeted her with a smile and a bow. “I am so glad you could make it. Have you been to Mournhold before?”

“I have not, serjo.”

“Then allow me to welcome you to the Chimeri capital city. Perhaps I could give you a tour.”

They crossed through the Eleven Gates and into the city. Sil led Bthunkagr first through the merchants’ district, where she received a number of strange looks. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was one of very few Dwemer in the area, or because she was looking at everything with just as much curiosity. It was just strange to see so many merchants, all competing to sell their wares. It was also strange to see so many of them with stalls set up in the middle of the plaza, and others in individual buildings that weren’t connected to some central structure.

Next, they passed by the temple, where Sil told her the Chimer went to worship the Three Good Daedra: Azura, Mephala, and Boethiah. She wondered what exactly worship looked like, especially worship that was widespread throughout a culture and held in centralized locations. Bthunkagr had never held any gods herself, and any Dwemer who did usually picked them for utilitarian reasons. She was vaguely aware of the story of the Velothi Exodus, and understood that these particular Daedra were generally considered to be helpers to the Chimer as a whole. Still, it seemed strange to her that their worship would persist past the first generation or so.

Eventually, they reached the palace, where the Council’s affairs were centralized. Sil led her inside and to his workshop. The workshop was nothing like what she expected. Dwemeri workshops were usually grand spaces with forges, humming machinery, and soundproofing mechanisms for precise tonal research. This was not that. For one thing, it was a small room, much too small to house any of the machinery she was expecting. It was also relatively cool, lacking even a basic forge. (She admitted that is was not entirely a negative thing; Dwemeri workshops did have a tendency to get uncomfortably warm.) There were stacks of books interspersed throughout the room. There were bookshelves too, yes, but it seemed as though about half of the books had been taken down for reference at one point or another and never returned. There was just one workbench and one desk, though they both had miscellaneous tools and writing supplies on them, and so Bthunkagr suspected that there was not much distinction made in their function.

It was also dark, until Sil waved his hand and illuminated the lamps around the room. Bthunkagr was momentarily taken aback. She hadn’t noticed him pick up any tool to activate the lights, and the lights all seemed independent, unlike Dwemeri lights that were usually networked into some larger control structure. Had he just used magic? Unconstrained magic, without the use of any tools to control it? So frivolously? Before she could process it further, he used telekinesis to move a stack of books off a chair in order to give her a place to sit. She knew the Chimer were more lax with their use of unconstrained magic than the Dwemer were, but she hadn’t realized the extent of it.

Once she got over her shock and sat down, her attention landed on the tools scattered around the room. Many of them seemed more magical than the average Dwemeri tool: there were runes and channeling devices and scrolls scattered haphazardly across the workspaces. Others were actual Dwemeri tools, though the majority looked incredibly outdated, and others still looked like Chimericized hybrids of Dwemeri tools.

Sil magically moved a few more books and took a seat for himself. Bthunkagr realized that she must have made a face, because Sil looked at her with concern.

“Something wrong?”

“No, serjo,” she said quickly. “I’m just not used to unbound magic being used so freely.”

“Ah,” Sil laughed. “Yes, Chimer are a bit looser about magic than Dwemer are. I can see the wisdom of enchanting tools with a predefined purpose, but,” he chuckled, “I couldn’t imagine giving up spells like telekinesis.”

“I can likewise see the appeal,” Bthunkagr said. “But it’s just so…foreign.”

She nodded toward the Dwemeri tools on Sil’s workbench.

“For all your use of unbound magic, though, you do seem more interested in Dwemeri technology than the average Chimer,” she said.

“That’s a fair assessment,” he said. “I am a fan of determinism, you could say. I appreciate when I can calculate exactly how to set up a device in order to achieve my goal. I’ve also always been a tinkerer. Even before the alliance, I, well…occasionally came across discarded Dwemeri parts to use in my experiments.” His face reddened as he finished speaking.

Bthunkagr, despite being born well into the period of peace, was aware that there were once stronger restrictions on the interactions between their cultures. She suspected Sil might not have come upon all of those parts through the most legitimate means.

“I did notice that some of your parts look a bit…rustic?”

Sil laughed. “That is kind phrasing. Yes, I think it’s safe to say that some of them could be even five to ten times your age. Just look at my arms, for example. I’ve replaced most of the parts at one time or another throughout the years, but the basic structure dates back to when I was a young adult, which was a very long time ago.”

Bthunkagr looked more closely at his arms when he held them out for demonstration.

“I noticed that you didn’t use the types of parts that are generally used in prosthetics. Was that intentional?”

His eyes widened slightly in interest. “Are there parts for that specific purpose?”

“Oh, definitely. There are some very specific parts that mirror the musculoskeletal system more closely than general-purpose components. Of course, not everybody prefers that, which is why I asked. Some people intentionally use more general-purpose components in an attempt to trade mer-like function for more machine-like functions.”

Sil nodded contemplatively. “I can see the benefit of each.”

“I could try to get you some prosthetic components to experiment with, if you’d like.”

“I wouldn’t want to take them from someone who needs them,” Sil said.

Bthunkagr waved a hand. “I could make them myself. The blueprints are all publicly available so that there will never be any worry about scarcity. In fact, I could probably get you a set of blueprints as well.”

“Well, as long as it’s no trouble, I would be delighted to see these parts. Thank you, sera.” He paused with a faraway look, as if further contemplating the possibilities, and then brought his attention back to the present. “So tell me, how did you become interested in tonal architecture?”

This was a question that Bthunkagr received frequently, but she found that she never had a good answer.

“I always excelled in school,” she said, “and so I always assumed I’d go to the Academy for _something_ and end up a researcher, or academic, or something of the like. Everyone told me I would grow up to be a tonal architect. That’s what they always say to kids who do well in school, as it’s a field with some prestige attached to it. As I got older and started to look into possible directions to take my studies, I considered tonal architecture and realized it suited my interests nicely. With my grades, it was easy to get into the program, and so…here I am.”

“You’ve only recently graduated from the Dwemeri Academy, correct?”

“That’s correct, serjo.”

“Well, first, congratulations. I don’t know much about Dwemeri education, but I’ve heard that students typically take much longer to complete the program.”

“That is…common, yes,” Bthunkagr said. She realized her face was beginning to redden.

Sil smiled softly. “I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. Let’s move on. I was wondering if any of your publications have been translated into Aldmeris—or Chimeris, for that matter. I’ve tried to learn Dwemeris, but it is hard to find resources.”

“You want to read my work?”

Sil shrugged. “Only if that would be acceptable, and only if they are generally meant to be consumed by the public. In most aboveground cultures that I’m familiar with, it is common for researchers to publish their work, usually in Aldmeris, and to read their colleague’s publications.”

“That’s also common among Dwemer, but I don’t know that I’ve ever heard of works being translated. I guess it never occurred to me that there could be interest. I will look into it.”

“No pressure, of course,” Sil said. “Nerevar would kick me for saying it, but I know there can still be mistrust between our peoples. There may be a preference for keeping research within your community. Perhaps you should talk to Kagrenac before making any copies.”

Bthunkagr nodded contemplatively, wondering why she had never thought about this before.

“In the meantime, perhaps you could give me an overview. You said you were working on a tool to fragment tones? Naturally, my knowledge of tonal architecture _per se_ is lacking, but I would love to learn more.”

Their discussions went on for hours, each going in detail into their respective areas of research. As much as they both wanted to extend the talks indefinitely, they decided to cut it off for the day once it was dark.

“Shall I walk you back to Bamz-Amschend?” Sil asked.

“I would appreciate that. Thank you, serjo,” Bthunkagr said. She was unfamiliar enough with the area, especially above ground, that she was glad to have someone accompany her.

On the walk, they encountered Voryn Dagoth emerging from the temple after the dusk service.

“Sera Bthunkagr! I am glad Serjo Sotha’s letter reached you,” Voryn said when he saw them. “So, is this the beginning of a new Dwemeri-Chimeri friendship?”

Sil laughed. “I certainly hope so.”

“As do I,” Bthunkagr said with a smile of her own.

“How wonderful!” Voryn said, clasping his hands together in delight. “Muthsera Nerevar would be overjoyed to hear it! How fortunate that we managed to convince Serjo Kagrenac to bring you to dinner, Bthunkagr.”

He accompanied them the rest of the way and kept up a friendly conversation as they walked. Although Bthunkagr would have liked to keep talking about the intricacies of tonal dynamics and other such fascinating topics with Sil, it was becoming clearer now than it had been at the dinner that Voryn’s small talk came from a place of genuinely wanting to get to know her. Small talk had never been her strong point in Chimeris lessons, but she tried her best to keep up. She realized that she, too, was happy to get to know them, even when it came to less academic topics.

When they reached the gate to Bamz-Amschend and made their friendly goodbyes, she was almost sad that they couldn’t accompany her the rest of the way to the recall device, but the rule was that Chimer we not permitted to enter certain Dwemer strongholds during the night without prior authorization. As she walked the rest of the way, she wondered why that rule existed. It was possible that it was a safety concern. Few, if any, Chimer spoke Dwemeris, and they were likely to get lost in a stronghold at night when there were fewer people around to help them. But she got the sense that it was more to protect the Dwemer, and that made her uneasy. She thought back to what Sil had said about mistrust between their peoples. What threat did the Chimer pose, in the Dwemer’s eyes? Had they not been allies for two centuries?

The question stayed in the back of her mind that night and over the next few days. On her next free day, she stopped by the archives. She was unsurprised, but a little disappointed, to find that very few Dwemeri works had ever been translated to another language. They did have a fairly sizable collection of work by non-Dwemer, mostly by Chimer and Altmer (and, in some cases, Aldmer). Some of them had been translated into Dwemeris, while the rest were left in their original language. The only publications that had been translated from Dwemeris into another language, however, were a few political documents, mostly about the alliance. That did not sit well with her.

Bthunkagr returned to her quarters that afternoon and set to translating her thesis.


	4. Translations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bthunkagr translates some of her papers into Aldmeris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I headcanon that the Dwemer use a grid of noise-cancelling devices that create sort of "sound-walls" so that people can work on sensitive tonal research in the same space where other people are, like, working at a forge, or just existing with noise.

### 10 Frostfall, 1E 648

Bthunkagr continued working on the translations over a number of sittings. Once the initial fear wore off, she took her work to the archives. It was easier to work there, and besides, it wasn’t as if anyone would find it odd that she was there, or wonder what she was working on.

There was a _whoosh_ of sound as the wall created by the local noise dampening device was broken and then reformed. She turned around to see what had caused the disruption. Nchuravahr, the librarian, approached her workspace.

“Bthunkagr, is it?” Nchuravahr asked. She sat down in the seat next to Bthunkagr’s. “I haven’t seen you around the archives much since you graduated from the Academy. What’s brought you back in lately?”

“Just doing some personal work,” Bthunkagr said, setting down her letter cube. “I find it’s easier to work here than in my quarters.”

“Glad to hear it,” Nchuravahr said. She tilted her head to read the spine of the book on the table. “Do you mean to be using an Auridon Aldmeris dictionary, or were you looking for Common Aldmeris?”

“Ah…Common, I suppose. I didn’t realize there was a difference,” Bthunkagr said. Her heart began to race as she wondered if Nchuravahr realized what she was doing. She considered shutting off the projection screen, but worried that would draw even more attention to her work.

“They like to pretend they’re all the same, but there are enough different words that you’ll sound a little smoother if you use a Common source. I’ll go find you one.”

She disappeared into the stacks, and came back a few moments later with three books in her arms.

“Here you are: two Common Aldmeris dictionaries—one’s a little more recent, but the other is renowned for its completeness—and a book about the differences in the dialects, in case you’re interested.”

“Oh, thank you, Nchuravahr,” Bthunkagr said, taking the books. She glanced between the dictionaries’ covers, trying to figure out which was which. She recognized the one published by the College of Sapiarchs Department of Altmeri Linguistics as the one she had used the whole time she had studied Aldmeris in school. She assumed that was the renowned old one.

“Those won’t help you with circumlocution, of course,” Nchuravahr said. “I’m sure you’ve already found that plenty of our words do not have Aldmeris equivalents, and even finding a way around them can prove difficult. Unfortunately, there aren’t many sources on how to work through that. But, I’m sure I could find you something, should you need it.”

“Thank you,” Bthunkagr said again, this time contemplatively. She wondered if the sources Nchuravahr spoke of could even be found on the shelves, or if they were of some less official variety.

“Of course.”

Nchuravahr had a very calming voice. Bthunkagr barely knew her, and already felt as though she could trust her, simply because she sounded like the type of mer who could be trusted. Bthunkagr also realized that this was a dangerous thought, however, especially given her current task.

“Does Kagrenac know you’re translating your thesis?” Nchuravahr asked, jarring Bthunkagr from her thoughts.

She stiffened and set the books down. Was she really being that obvious about it? She opened her mouth to reply, but Nchuravahr got there first.

“I will be sure not to mention it to her, then,” she said with a reassuring smile.

Bthunkagr relaxed somewhat, but the fear was still there. As much as she felt inclined to trust the librarian, she couldn’t be absolutely certain that she would stick to her word, or that Kagrenac wouldn’t find out some other way. She couldn’t even be sure that Kagrenac would be upset by it, but she also couldn’t be sure that she _wouldn’t_ , as she hadn’t asked.

“I’m not trying to do anything…unethical,” Bthunkagr said after a moment.

“I wouldn’t have thought you were. There’s nothing wrong with making knowledge more accessible.”

Bthunkagr nodded slowly. “Why are so few Dwemeri works translated?” she asked.

“Could be the difficulty in translating between the languages, but what good Dwemer shies away from an intellectual challenge? More likely a sense of superiority. Maybe even fear.”

“Fear?”

“Fear that if others learn our methods, we will no longer be special. Fear that outsiders might use our knowledge against us, to sabotage us or to devise counter-measures.”

“But what about the benefits? If we share our knowledge with others, they might be able to contribute. Our body of knowledge could grow exponentially.”

Nchuravahr shrugged with an understanding smile. “There lies the sense of superiority: Many do not believe that outsiders could contribute at all.”

“But that doesn’t make sense, either. It’s contradictory. If they can’t contribute, how could they build counter-measures?”

Nchuravahr laughed now, but it felt like a laugh of agreement, as though Bthunkagr were coming to understand something that Nchuravahr and perhaps others had known for some time. “Perhaps we are not as coherent of a people as some would have you believe.”

Bthunkagr had a good guess who the “some” in question might be.

“I see.”

“I’ll let you return to your work,” Nchuravahr said, “but let me know if you need anything.”

She had given her a lot to think about, for sure. If anything, her desire to translate her work had only grown, along with her resolve to keep the knowledge of her project away from her mentor, at least for the time being.

### 16 Sun’s Dusk, 1E 648

The next time Bthunkagr visited Sotha Sil in Mournhold, she had an Aldmeris copy of her Academy thesis and two of her more recent publications ready.

“Amazing!” Sil said when she presented them to him. “I must admit, I’m surprised Kagrenac allowed you to make these translations, but very glad for it—and for the work you put into it. Perhaps there is less mistrust between our peoples than I thought. That, in itself, is good to hear.”

Bthunkagr wondered if she should confess that she did not have her mentor’s permission to make the translations, but why would she? It could not hurt, of course, to let him think that the alliance was true. After all, it was, was it not? Yes, there was no need to sow any doubt by suggesting that her translations could be slightly less than legal. Rather than say anything to confirm or deny Sil’s musings, she settled for a casual smile and pushed the conversation ahead.


	5. Against bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bthunkagr becomes friends with one of her labmates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mzinbthar means "against bonds," hence the chapter name. Also he's nonbinary. I don't know if that's going to come up explicitly, so I want to make it a thing now.
> 
> This is kind of a short chapter; mostly I just wanted to introduce Mzinbthar and give Bthunkagr a friend in the lab.

### 7 Rain’s Hand, 1E 649

Every week, Kagrenac held lab meetings, where her research assistants could talk about their work and get feedback from their co-workers. This week, it was Bthunkagr’s turn. She talked about her work on a device to fracture pure tones into their subcomponents, and how the larger project was comprised of several smaller projects. She told them of a prototype for a device that could cut the “standard” tones that were more commonly found in nature, which, once perfected, could be used to support the later stages of the project.

Mzinbthar, a mer with hair just lighter than the brass they worked with twisted up in a bun and the sleeves of his robe rolled up to his elbows, had been sitting back with his feet up on the table for most of the meeting, until something Bthunkagr said caught his interest. Now he was leaning all the way in, his elbows on the table and feet on the floor. His sharp eyebrows were knitted in deep concentration as Bthunkagr spoke, and she was almost unsettled at how scrutinizing his eyes were when he bothered to direct them at anyone. She tried to look elsewhere, despite the intensity of his gaze. He eventually pulled out a notebook from his bag and a pen from his hair and started taking notes. When his bun began to unravel, he tapped at his pockets until he found a tuning fork and shoved it in to hold the hair together before returning to his notes. When Bthunkagr opened the floor for questions, Mzinbthar quickly raised his hand.

“What method are you using to first identify the subcomponents of a given standard tone?” he asked.

“It’s actually a method that I developed; there’s a short Proceedings article in _Grand Debate_ —Bthunkagr and Kagrenac, 648—but we plan to publish a full version soon.”

“Hmm.” He folded his hands in front of his face. “I’ll have to find it. Is it more efficient than a classic systems transformation?”

“More efficient and more practical,” Bthunkagr said. “We’ve been able to make it work in more real-world scenarios than a classic transformation.”

Mzinbthar kept his look of focus for a few more seconds, and then turned his attention to his notebook and waved for the group to carry on.

* * *

Mzinbthar came to Bthunkagr’s workspace after the meeting, carrying a large mechanism in both arms. He _clunked_ it down on her workbench and began talking without making any attempt at greeting whatsoever.

“So, here’s what’s going on,” he said. “I’m trying to extract pure tones from the standard tones in a very specific range. The lower end works fine, but the upper end keeps getting contaminated. Everything is calibrated, and so on. I’ll read your paper, obviously, but since you’re here, can you help me figure this out?”

“Sure.” Bthunkagr set her own tools down. “Walk me through the system.”

He showed her the individual parts of the mechanism, explaining what each part did for the whole, and then activated it. He fed it a stream of white noise, and just as he had said, the lower keys shone with bright, pure tones, while the higher keys sputtered and vibrated awkwardly.

“Show me the housings for the keys again,” Bthunkagr said. Mzinbthar pointed them out, and she nodded in understanding. “They have too much room.”

“They need to vibrate.”

“They have plenty of room to vibrate, and more. They have enough that the leftover space makes resonance pockets that create feedback for the actual resonator. Look at the lower keys.” She pointed to the spacing of the keys that were working as intended. “Their cases are the same size as those for the higher keys, but the keys themselves are bigger. You need smaller cases for the higher ones.”

He looked more closely at the mechanism. “ _Avatheled_ , is it really that simple?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily call it simple,” Bthunkagr said in an attempt to offer some reassurance. Just because it was related to her area of expertise did not mean that it was easy, or, indeed, that she had picked up on it without running into a similar issue herself a few times.

He waved a hand. “Everything is simple if you’re smart enough. And you”—he turned his attention back to her—“you seem pretty smart. You’re that young one, right? You’re like fifty or something?”

“Thirty-eight.”

“ _Thirty-eight?_ ” he repeated. “Thirty-eight and you’ve already been Named, and you’re working for Kagrenac. You must be really smart.”

Bthunkagr wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that, but Mzinbthar pushed ahead anyway.

“Well, I’m going to go try that out.” He picked up the mechanism from her workbench. “Thanks for your help. Let me know when you have a manuscript of that full paper; I’m eager to read it. And let me know if you ever need help with tonal extraction. You can probably handle it on your own, but there’s no need for all of us to be experts in everything. We’d never get anything done that way.”

* * *

Bthunkagr did end up coming to Mzinbthar for help on occasion, and he came back to her as well. Their areas of focus were practically adjacent—Mzinbthar with tonal extraction, and Bthunkagr with tonal fragmenting and deconstruction—and it turned out that they had a great deal to learn from one another. They ended up moving their workspaces to be next to each other, so that they could simply disable the sound wall between them as needed or sign across it, without having to lug their projects back and forth across the lab. Soon, they started a collaborative project, and another, and within the year, they had published a paper together and become a _de facto_ research team.

Kagrenac seemed impressed with their collaboration, though she also insisted that they use some method of catching each other’s attention that did not involve throwing nuts at each other, as had become their tendency over time.

“You’re both smart,” she had signed with an exasperated sigh after she caught a nut that Mzinbthar had overthrown while she was walking by. “Figure out something better.”


	6. Dawn and dusk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bthunkagr learns more about Chimeri practices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *casually drops a reference to Razak the Obscure Dwemer into a fic*
> 
> The original version of the first half-ish of this chapter was [originally posted on tumblr](https://razaks-wheel.tumblr.com/post/612162740398735360/summary-bthunkagr-and-sotha-sil-exchange).

### 4 Sun’s Dawn, 1E 650

Bthunkagr arrived in Mournhold with another translated paper and a full pack. She had promised Sotha Sil that if the opportunity arose, she would acquire the parts to instruct him in “proper” Dwemeri automaton construction techniques. (“Not that your methods are _improper_ , of course,” she had clarified. “They’re impressive for someone who has no background in Dwemeri construction or knowledge of the language.”) Over the past few weeks, she had managed to get all the necessary parts and then some in preparation for her visit today.

Sil proved to be a receptive student, eager to finally learn what he had only been able to approximate for a few centuries. Before long, they had a spider constructed and lying on the table in front of them. Next came the task of activating it.

Bthunkagr rummaged through her pack. “Did I not bring a control rod?” she asked herself aloud. “All these miscellaneous…bits…and not the one thing I needed to make this thing get up and move outside a stronghold.”

“You don’t need a control rod inside a stronghold?” Sil asked.

“Hm?” Bthunkagr looked up. “Oh, no. Well, you do if you want to give them new instructions, but there’s enough power and Calling networked into the strongholds that once they have their program, they can run without direct oversight.”

“I see,” Sil said. “I assume none of the miscellaneous bits you brought could be combined into a control rod?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out now. We might have enough…” She kept searching through her bag, pulling out several of the aforementioned bits and laying them on the workbench, while her mind returned to the previous question. “I’ve heard of a Western engineer who seems to have figured out how to get automata to work outside of strongholds without control rods. Hasn’t really, uh…picked up steam?” She looked up again to draw her attention to what she was saying. “No, that’s a literal translation. What’s the Chimeris version of that? Hasn’t really…gained support over here.”

She let her focus return to her bag. “Speaking of Razak, or _razak_ , really”—she gave the second repetition a different tone than the first—“we’ll need a tonal modulator, which I think I have…yep, there it is.”

She set her bag aside and began assembling the control rod, explaining the parts and processes to Sil as she went. The construction went smoothly for a time, but when it was almost done, she came to a realization and halted.

“ _Ahrk vanch,_ ” she swore, setting the device down. “We don’t have the right kind of capacitor.” She glanced over a few of the spare parts. “I don’t think we could make one, either.”

“Would a controlled burst of lightning magic be effective?”

Bthunkagr laughed as she paused to consider the suggestion. “‘Controlled’ and ‘burst of magic’ are words that do not often co-occur where I come from.”

“I can see why that would be, if you do not use unbound magic frequently,” Sil said. “Perhaps I could return the favor and offer some instruction of my own. Have you ever used magic without a device before?”

“They teach us the basics of channeling and shaping…magicka? That’s the Chimeris word, right? We don’t have a separate word for it.” She waited for Sil to nod and continued, “I’ve never used actual lightning magic before, though.”

“If you can channel magicka, you’re already halfway there,” he said. He showed her the method of shaping magicka into lightning. Then, as an extra demonstration, he drew a current between his hands. “You don’t need metal hands, of course, though that does make it a little easier.”

“Does that not hurt?” Bthunkagr asked.

“Not at all,” Sil said. “When you’re using hands of flesh, you concentrate the magicka just above your skin, or include a resistance effect. What I am doing, using my hands to create a sort of resonance to use less magicka, _could_ hurt, but I have negated the sense.”

Bthunkagr nodded and nervously looked at her own hands.

“If you’d like to try, you can create the bolt against my hand,” Sil said. “That way, I can dissipate it if it does not work.”

Bthunkagr took a breath and held up her hand, and Sil mirrored her.

“Right. Here goes.” She channeled the magicka, shaped it, and sent the lightning forth. Her eyes clamped shut at the last second before it released.

There was a bang, followed by some clanging sounds on the far side of the room. Bthunkagr opened her eyes to see that she had apparently missed, hitting a shelf on the far wall instead of Sil’s hand.

“I—I’m sorry,” Bthunkagr stammered.

“No, that was very good,” Sil said. He chuckled and waved a telekinesis spell to pick up the shelf and its contents. “It does help to keep your eyes open, however.” He turned back to Bthunkagr and held up both hands this time, giving her a wider target. “Would you like to try again?”

She did, this time forcing herself to keep her eyes open. The bolt hit Sil’s hand and crackled up his arm. Her eyes widened and she moved to help, but Sil seemed unfazed by the coursing shock. He touched a nearby rod and discharged the remaining energy, and then turned back to her.

“Excellent work,” he said. “Now, I suspect we’ll need a sustained current in order to power the control rod. Am I correct?”

Bthunkagr nodded.

“Why don’t you try to create a current between your hands, like I did earlier? The same principles apply.” He demonstrated again, explaining as he went this time.

Bthunkagr mirrored the positioning of his hands, holding both out in front of her. With her right hand, she sent forth a pulse. With her left, she made to catch it, and—

She was momentarily blinded by a flash of light and a burst of pain in her left hand. In the ensuing fractions of a second, she realized she had not left a buffer of space between her hand and the magicka channel. When the afterimage dissipated, she saw charred skin on her hand, an a concerned look on Sil’s face.

“Are you okay?” Sil asked.

She nodded, biting her lip to distract herself from the pain.

“That sort of thing does happen, unfortunately,” he said. “I’m not much of a healer, but I keep supplies around just in case.”

Bthunkagr saw that he had some bandages and a jar of something that she assumed was a salve in his hands. He must have gotten them while she was still blinded.

“Why don’t you sit down?” he suggested, guiding her to a chair. “May I see your hand?”

She held out her burned hand. Sil examined the wound briefly and began applying the salve. The relief was instant. The pain was not entirely gone, but the alchemical properties in the salve seemed to be lifting the heat right out of the burn and starting to repair the flesh.

“It is potent stuff,” Sil said, noting her change in expression. He wrapped the bandage around her hand when he was done applying the salve. “There. Does that feel better?”

“It does, a great deal,” she said. “Thank you.”

Sil gave her a kind nod in response. “Perhaps I should be the one to power the control rod?”

“I think that would be for the best,” Bthunkagr agreed with a light laugh.

They both turned their focus back to the spider on the workbench. Sil picked up the control rod and created a tiny current between his thumb and index finger and placed them on the conduits. With his free hand, he manipulated the dial on the front of the device.

The spider sprang to its feet, did a small dance, and bounced idly as it awaited instructions.

“It works!” Sil said. He looked almost giddy with excitement.

Bthunkagr showed him how to execute a few simple commands, and soon he had the spider racing around the room while he laughed with joy.

“Ah, thank you for this lesson, Bthunkagr,” he said when he finally brought the spider to a halt at their feet. “This was truly enlightening, and quite enjoyable.”

“It was no trouble at all, serjo.”

“I am sorry about your hand. In retrospect, powering the control rod required precision that I should not have expected you to attain so quickly. I suppose I just wanted to offer knowledge for knowledge.”

Bthunkagr started to wave her hands to dismiss the thought, but cringed as she agitated the wound.

“It was a worthwhile lesson—in both the techniques of unbound magic and its dangers,” she said with a small smile. “And I appreciate your faith in me, even if it turned out to be an overestimate.”

“I hope this does not cause you to reject unbound magic altogether.”

Bthunkagr looked at her hand again. “Not altogether. I have to admit it was exhilarating, even if the results were exactly along the lines that they warn us about.”

“I assure you that with practice comes fewer injuries,” Sil said. “Well, that is not entirely true. Sometimes proficiency brings with it the desire to push one’s limits. That, in turn, leads to more injuries. But with practice _and_ care, the risks are limited.”

“I think I’ll avoid practicing unless I have supervision,” Bthunkagr said.

“That is wise, yes,” Sil said with a nod.

“Maybe you could help me again sometime?” she suggested. “I could try to find some parts to make a more complicated construct in exchange. Next time, I’ll try to bring an actual control rod.”

“I would be happy to offer more instruction. And to learn more about proper Dwemeri construction methods.”

“I look forward to it, then,” Bthunkagr said. She bowed in Chimeri fashion and took leave of her friend.

* * *

On her way out of the city as the sun was beginning to set, Bthunkagr ran into Voryn Dagoth again. She hadn’t spoken with him since the last time she ran into him on her way back to Bamz-Amschend, but he gave her just as much diplomatic pleasantry as ever.

“How wonderful to see you again, Sera Bthunkagr,” he greeted her. “Are you headed home?”

“I am, serjo,” she said. “Are you on the way to…”—she struggled to find the appropriate Chimeris phrase—“worship the Daedra?”

If Voryn noticed her awkwardness, he brushed over it easily. “Indeed! Dusk approaches, and so the Chimer are called to prayer services for the Prince Azura.”

_“Prayer services”—that’s what it’s called,_ she thought. “I wonder if you might tell me about your prayer services sometime?” she asked. “I have never held any gods myself, but I have been curious what it entails, especially for a whole people.”

“Are you in a hurry to get home?” he asked. “You could come to this service, if you’d like.”

She was surprised by the offer. In truth, she had barely expected more than a vague assurance to talk about it “sometime.” Not that it wasn’t an intriguing prospect, but she had to wonder whether it would even be acceptable.

“I would not wish to impose,” she said. “I am sure that in the Daedra’s eyes, I am very much a heretic.”

“Nonsense,” Voryn said. “You are a friend and an ally, and you would be most welcome.”

“In that case,” she said cautiously, “I would appreciate that.” Then she hesitated and glanced down at her clothes. “Am I dressed appropriately, though? I don’t know what one wears to a prayer service.”

“Your attire is perfectly appropriate,” he said, glancing her over. His eyes stopped on her bandaged hand. “Are you injured?”

“Yes, just an electrical burn. I was practicing magic with Serjo Sotha earlier. Is it forbidden for one with injuries to enter the temple?”

“Oh, nothing of the sort. I was going to offer to heal it. May I see?”

She held up her hand and unwound the bandages, wincing slightly as it tried to stick to her raw flesh.

“Ah, Sil took my advice and started using salves, I see. That’s good. He may be an accomplished mage, but healing is one area where his skills are lacking.” He examined the wound more carefully. “This should be simple to heal. May I?”

“Please.” Though she thought she had had her fill of unbound magic for the day, she decided that in this situation, it was okay to allow one more instance. She wondered dryly if that was every mage’s attitude.

He wove a spell, singing what sounded like an incantation under his breath as he went. Bthunkagr’s palm stung for a moment, even through the salve’s effect, and then began to itch, and then felt like there was never anything wrong in the first place.

“How does that feel?” Voryn asked.

“Perfect,” she said. “My thanks, serjo.”

“Excellent,” Voryn said with a smile. “Shall we continue to the temple?”

When they entered the temple, Voryn began walking toward the front, so far toward the front that Bthunkagr began to worry that he planned to present her to Azura—or her statue, anyway—directly. Eventually, however, she noticed the mer in the front row with the tall, crested hair who seemed to be Voryn’s target, and began to mentally debate whether that was worse. Nerevar looked to be deep in prayer already, eyes closed, rocking on his cushion, and mouthing some words she could not identify. Voryn sat down on the cushion next to him and motioned for Bthunkagr to join them.

“Muthsera hortator?” Voryn said quietly, with a light touch to Nerevar’s shoulder.

“Voryn!” Nerevar opened his eyes and greeted the councilor with a hug.

“We have a friend joining us today,” he said, gesturing toward Bthunkagr.

“And Bthunkagr!” Nerevar said, looking extremely pleased. She was grateful to be on the other side of Voryn, in case he might have otherwise tried to go for a hug for her as well. “What brings you here? I don’t suppose you’ve come to worship the Prince of Dawn and Dusk?”

“Oh, no, I, uh…” She lowered her voice, unsure how her lack of faith would be perceived by others. “I don’t actually worship any gods. I was just curious what your worship looked like, and Serjo Dagoth invited me to this service.” She wondered whether she should have added a word like “graciously” when talking about the invitation. Pleasantries, especially through the eyes of the Chimer, were not something she was especially used to.

Luckily, neither of them seemed to perceive a slight. “What a wonderful opportunity we have for cultural exchange, then,” Nerevar said.

A priest came around to the front of the shrine to Azura and began to lead the congregants in prayer. Most seemed to know to pick up a copy of the book titled _Aniia Smolsan_ —“Songs of Twilight”—from the small tables in front of them and flip to the correct page. She picked up a copy herself and glanced at Voryn, who whispered, “Page seventeen.”

Despite the title, only some of the prayers were sung, though those led her to wonder exactly what kind of musical education the Chimer generally received, as many of the congregants seemed happy to join in the song while being entirely off tune. The service seemed to follow a particular order. They began by offering praise to Azura for her apparently many virtues. That took several prayers, and Bthunkagr could not help but wonder how one entity could possibly have as many good qualities as they were expressing. They followed that with an acknowledgment of Azura’s beneficent actions—or, at least, actions that they attributed to her. Bthunkagr had to wonder how many were explicitly her doing, but she understood that people with gods liked to ascribe those gods’ will to the events of the world around them. Then they moved onto supplications, where they asked Azura for her continued mercy, guidance, and wisdom, and allowed the congregants a moment for silent meditation. Bthunkagr knew that it would not be wise to request anything of this Prince she did not worship, nor did she have anything in particular that she would ask for, and so she spent the moment studying the construction of the room and how its shape might affect the acoustics.

They finished the service off with one more song that seemed to recapitulate everything they had covered in brief, and then the worshippers began to slowly file out. Nerevar went to the shrine, thanked the priest, and then addressed the statue directly for what looked like some final prayers. Bthunkagr assumed that was some privilege reserved for the “thrice-blessed” hortator.

“What did you think?” Voryn asked as they stood up.

“That was very informative. Thank you for allowing me to sit in on the service.”

“‘Informative,’” Nerevar repeated as he returned to them. “And I would say that your opinion would be just as informative to us. Would you elaborate, sera?”

Bthunkagr nodded cautiously. She wondered if this was a test of some sort, but she knew she would never be able to face these two in the arts of Chimeri speechcraft, and so decided that tempered honesty would be the best approach in any case.

“First, I had never been to any sort of prayer service before, and so it was informative in that it was a whole new experience,” she said. “But many of the details were also interesting. I liked the music. The acoustics of the room allow for some truly beautiful and haunting reverberations.” She did not add, _…if only the average Chimer could carry a tune._ “The order of prayers struck me as very logical. It makes sense that if one wishes to make requests of a great spirit, one would begin by expressing their admiration and recounting her virtues. I did have a question about the individual silent meditation.”

“Please ask, sera.”

“Perhaps this question is naive, but does your Prince generally respond to your prayers?”

“Directly?” Nerevar asked. “Not usually, though I have had the great honor of being spoken to by the Prince of Dawn and Dusk.”

“Perhaps this next question is even more naive, then—I hope you’ll forgive my lack of familiarity with religious practice—but how do you know that she is listening?”

“It is a matter of trust,” Nerevar explained. “We have seen enough of her direct influence in our lives and in our ancestors’ lives, and so we trust that she is attentive, and hope that our causes are seen as worthy of her intervention.”

“I see,” she said. Such a grand temple, such elegant services, all to a Prince who may never acknowledge her servants? It was hard for Bthunkagr to understand their motivation. “Do the other Princes have similar services?”

“No, Mephala and Boethiah are more based on action,” he said. “Azura loves us and guides us, and she asks for our love in return. We show our respect for the other two Good Daedra by embodying their spirit. We may occasionally offer them a prayer for assistance, or before doing something in their name, but they tend to look down on excessive groveling.”

“It’s interesting that there is such variety even within a pantheon,” she said. “I did not know that there were gods who look unfavorably on their people’s worship.”

“I think it is imprecise to say they look unfavorably on _worship_ , exactly. Rather, it is that worship of them is different from worship of Azura.”

“Ah, my apologies,” Bthunkagr said.

“No need,” Nerevar said with a smile. He began to walk with them toward the door. “Will you be staying in Mournhold tonight, Bthunkagr?”

“No, muthsera,” she said. Chimeris honorifics were so strange—in Dwemeris, honorifics were built into a name if they were to be used—but she was at least fairly confident that that was the correct way to address the Chimeri hortator, even if he was not actually her king. “I was going to return to Kagrenzel through Bamz-Amschend.”

“Then perhaps Voryn and I could walk you to Bamz-Amschend.”

“Thank you, but I would not want to take up more of your time.” In truth, she could think of few things more awkward than going on a walk with Hortator Indoril Nerevar and Lord High Councilor Voryn Dagoth, especially given the rumors about the two of them.

“It would be no trouble at all! You’re our guest. And besides, what better way to follow a dusk service than by taking a walk as we transition from twilight toward Mephala’s hour?”

“Then…I would greatly appreciate it,” she said with a forced, formal smile.

Fortunately, Nerevar seemed to be a master of small talk, and Voryn kept up with him easily. The three of them discussed the alliance in the most superficial terms (mostly what a wonderful thing it was), how nice it was to have a recurring Dwemer visitor to Mournhold (and, from Bthunkagr, how lovely the city and its hospitality were), how nice it was for her to show interest in their practices (and how nice it was for them to invite her to the service), and eventually Nerevar began recounting stories of dealings with Dumac and visits to Dwemeri cities. The walk was easier than she had expected, but there was an undeniable sense that they were all wearing a façade. But, then, it was apparently Mephala’s hour. (Not that they had defined that, but she assumed it was a Chimeri colloquialism for nighttime.)

Though she thanked them for accompanying her, she was relieved to be back in Dwemeri territory when they parted ways at Bamz-Amschend. Still, she acknowledged that she had come away from the day with a much better understanding of her Chimeri neighbors; their worship of gods and their use of unbound magic were some of the defining factors that separated them from the Dwemer. That was not to say that she suddenly knew everything about them, but to go from a complete lack of familiarity to _some_ familiarity was a significant jump for a single day. A fuller understanding could come with time.


	7. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kagrenac has learned that Bthunkagr has been translating her work into Aldmeris, and she is not happy.

### 28 Midyear, 1E 650

“Why isn’t this working? Pass me that tuning fork.” Mzinbthar held out one hand expectantly, while in the other he held up the device that he and Bthunkagr were collaborating on.

Bthunkagr placed the tool in his hand. “Are you sure you aligned—”

“Shh!” Mzinbthar had already struck the fork and was comparing its pitch to the sounds emanating from the device’s resonance chamber. Brow furrowed, he pulled it away from his ear and looked at the inner compartment. “ _Ahrk vanch._ You’re right. It’s not aligned.”

The sound wall to their side opened and closed as Kagrenac approached their workspace with a determined swiftness. Both Bthunkagr and Mzinbthar set their tools down and straightened up to face their mentor.

“Bthunkagr. Accompany me.”

Kagrenac turned around and left again, now heading straight for her own workspace. Bthunkagr exchanged a nervous glance with Mzinbthar before wordlessly following. Though Kagrenac was never one for exuberant greetings, she usually had at least some very subtle warmth that was entirely absent today. Bthunkagr could not help but think that something was wrong.

They passed through the sound walls at Kagrenac’s workspace. Kagrenac sat down at her desk and pointed a finger at the chair across from her, in a silent demand that Bthunkagr join her.

Bthunkagr was already shaking as she sat down. She was not sure what she had done, but there was obviously something, and it was clearly egregious. Had she forgotten some engagement, or had one of her schematics contained an error that ended with people being injured, or—

She could hardly think now. Kagrenac had her hands folded in front of her and was regarding Bthunkagr with a glare so cutting that she would have expected to be reserved for the most difficult First Council meetings. An even deeper sense of dread crept in as she realized that she would soon need to defend her actions (which actions, she still did not know) before the Dwemer who could have been named Nchuftarac—Sovereign of Debate—just as easily as Sovereign of Music. She felt incredibly small as she stared back across the desk at her mentor, waiting to learn what judgment was about to be passed upon her.

After what might have been another year or so of staring, Kagrenac finally spoke.

“You have been translating papers into Aldmeris.”

Ah. So that’s what this was about. That was especially unfortunate, as she did not have much in the way of defense, other than arguments about ethics. But, as Kagrenac had not technically presented her with a question, Bthunkagr did not offer an answer, instead remaining still and waiting for Kagrenac to continue.

“What was your motivation?”

Now Bthunkagr considered her words carefully. “To make knowledge more accessible. To be able to involve a broader audience.”

“Why would you need the papers to be in Aldmeris for that?”

“I understand what you’re implying, and yes, I do think it is important to share our knowledge, even with non-Dwemer.”

“What made you think you had the authority to act on such a naive opinion?”

“I translated only my own works. Surely that is within my rights, is it not?”

“No, it is not. Not where the security of Dwemereth is concerned.”

Bthunkagr wished to counter that point, to ask how exactly sharing some reports on the nature of refracted tones could possibly threaten the security of Dwemereth, but she was not the one asking the questions right now, and so she remained silent.

“Did you ever think to consult me before making these translations?” Kagrenac asked.

Once again, Bthunkagr needed to proceed with extreme caution. To say “no” would not only be a lie, but it would also imply carelessness. But to say “yes” would indicate that she was aware that she may be making a transgression, and chose to do it anyway.

“I thought about it, but I had assessed the question myself and did not see any ethical issues with it. I did not wish to bother you with something so trivial.”

“Part of my job is to field ‘trivial’ questions for those I mentor, Bthunkagr. You know this,” Kagrenac said. “Sotha Sil seemed to be under the impression that you had my permission. You have quite a penchant for dancing around inconvenient truths.”

That evaluation stung, but Bthunkagr could not say that it was wholly inaccurate.

Kagrenac was quiet now, back to her cutting stare, but Bthunkagr knew that she had not yet relinquished her turn.

“I assume this is why you have been spending time in the archives. Who has helped you? I don’t imagine Thumzac would stoop so low. Nchuravahr?”

She hesitated. She was not exactly willing to turn in the librarian who had only offered a receptive ear, some life advice, and some more appropriate dictionaries. “I did the translations on my own…”

“Consider your words carefully, Bthunkagr. Do not think to lie to me, and do not continue to dance around the truth.”

When Bthunkagr hesitated again, Kagrenac continued. “I will talk to her myself then.” She looked at Bthunkagr for a moment, and sighed. "You are loyal, if nothing else. I hope you will consider carefully where your loyalty lies.

“Regarding the present issue, you have committed treason. Minor treason, perhaps, but treason nonetheless.”

“ _Treason?_ ” Bthunkagr blurted out, suddenly unable to keep to the traditional rules for argument.

Kagrenac looked equal parts surprised and furious at her outburst. “As I said, you compromised the security of Dwemereth—”

“I translated my own work into a language that my friend could understand. If I had simply discussed the contents of a paper with him, would that still be treason? If I had read it aloud and translated it on the fly?”

“Do _not_ speak over me, Bthunkagr.” Her glare was now sharper than Bthunkagr had ever seen. “As I was saying, you have committed treason, for which the usual punishment is exile.”

Bthunkagr let out an exasperated laugh even as her stomach dropped. Exile? Exiled for talking to her friend about science, just as she did in this lab every day, because the friend in question was a Chimer. She shook her head and muttered a curse.

“That is the usual punishment,” Kagrenac repeated. "I am the one passing down the sentence, and I understand that your intent was not malicious, just utterly foolish. I do not plan to exile you. However, I cannot let you go with a simple warning. For four years, your communications outside the stronghold will be monitored, and your access to the archives will be limited. You will need to request access from designated librarians—designation to be determined.

“I will also leave you with a warning, as your mentor. Though I am not limiting your ability to come and go, I advise you to keep your distance from the Chimer. Understand where they are coming from. They are not a people who value truth as we do. Just look at their gods.”

“They’re our friends, are they not?”

“They are our _allies_ ,” Kagrenac corrected her. “Not our friends.”

“They seem to think we are friends. They call me a friend every time I visit Mournhold.”

“Think critically, Bthunkagr,” she said. “If they call you a friend, it is an act to gain your trust. It does not mean they see you as anything but a tenuous ally or a political pawn to maneuver and display for the betterment of their agenda.”

Bthunkagr wished she could take some time to process that. Of course, she knew that everything the Chimer did—especially those on the First Council, and especially when dealing with Dwemer—was political in some way, but why should that preclude the possibility for friendship? They must at least be friends with one another, right? Unfortunately, now was not the time to be working through emotions, and so she responded in a way to show logical reasoning.

“Would friendship not strengthen the alliance?”

“Friendship would complicate the alliance. What would happen to all of those friendships should the alliance fall apart?”

“Why would one forego a friendship over the possibility that an alliance could fall apart after two centuries of peace?”

“Two centuries,” Kagrenac repeated with a light scoff. “Your youth is showing, Bthunkagr. You may have been born well into this period of peace, but many of us were alive long before it. The formation of the First Council, what seems like ancient history to you, was half my life ago, and I don’t doubt I will see the end of it in my lifetime. I know what the Chimer are truly like, even if they do not direct their nature at us these days.”

“What are they truly like, then?”

“Their society is based around lying, scheming, and murder. They may hide it from us—most of it, anyway—but that only further demonstrates their aptitude for deceit. And you: you are already picking it up.”

Bthunkagr bristled. “I have not lied, and I would not consider it a ‘scheme’ to simply translate my own work for my friend. I certainly have not murdered anyone.”

“You hide behind half-truths as though the rest can stay obscured forever. That is deception. Amateur deception, to be perfectly honest. It is as though you forget that I am the one who actually works with the Chimer.”

“I was trying to do what was right.”

“Do not dig yourself a deeper hole,” Kagrenac warned softly. “Take my advice, or do not. But please, Bthunkagr, if nothing else, do not trust the Chimer wholeheartedly and uncritically. Trust is fatal when it comes to the Chimer.”

Bthunkagr’s eyes had drifted down to the desk during the conversation, and when she looked back up, she saw that Kagrenac was no longer wearing her dagger face. In its place was a look of genuine concern. She wondered with a pang of guilt what sorts of negotiations Kagrenac had to go through with the other Chiefs in order to keep her from being exiled. On one hand, she wished she had not put her mentor in such a position, but on the other hand, she wished that doing the right thing—which she was still convinced it was—were not considered treason.

“Thank you for your concern, Kagrenac,” Bthunkagr said quietly.

Kagrenac nodded in response. “You may return to your work now.”

When Bthunkagr arrived back at her workspace, she could almost identify the frequency with which Mzinbthar was vibrating with curiosity.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Kagrenac actually angry before. Fifteen-and-one, Bthunkagr, what did you _do_?” he asked in a whisper, despite their workspace being auditorily isolated from the others.

She pretended not to hear him. “Did you fix the resonance?”

“Yes, I realigned the pistons. It works fine now; we just need to build the arms,” he said with a dismissive wave. “But what did you guys talk about?”

“Nothing,” Bthunkagr said. She picked up the base for one of the machine’s arms and started to attach gears. “She didn’t like the way I was communicating with some Chimer.”

“Oooh!” Mzinbthar folded his arms and leaned against the workbench. “Are you dating a Chimer?”

Bthunkagr rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Mzinbthar,” she said dryly. “Kagrenac’s upset with me for dating a Chimer. That’s what’s going on.”

“Well, if you won’t tell me anything else, I’ll just have to believe that.”

She chuckled halfheartedly, as if to draw his attention away from the fact that she was still shaking. “If it gets you off my back.”

He stood back upright. “It’s really bad enough that you’d let me start rumors about you having dealings with our Mephala-worshipping neighbors?”

“Starting rumors now? I thought you were just going to believe it yourself.”

He shrugged. “If that’s what it takes.”

Bthunkagr let out a sigh that was one part amusement to seven parts exasperation. She pointed the mechanical arm at him threateningly. “Do not repeat this to anyone, okay?”

“I’m listening.”

“Mzinbthar.”

“I won’t!”

She set the arm down and took a breath. “I translated some of my own papers for a Chimer friend, so that he could actually read them.”

Mzinbthar laughed. “What Chimer could possibly understand Dwemeri research?”

“A Chimer who actually has access to Dwemeri research, for a start.”

He rolled his eyes. “Go on.”

“That’s it, really. It was considered a threat to the security of Dwemereth.”

“How did Kagrenac even find out?”

“My friend told her. Did I mention the friend was Sotha Sil, one of the Chimer on the First Council?”

His eyes widened. “You neglected to mention that, yeah,” he said with an incredulous laugh. “So you really trusted one of the top Chimer politicians and didn’t expect it to come back to bite you?”

She tugged at her beard uncomfortably. “It was more that I wasn’t entirely forthcoming about not having Kagrenac’s express permission, and it sounds like he just mentioned it to her with the assumption that she knew. He might not even know I’m in trouble for it.”

“How much trouble are you in?”

“I’m getting some privileges limited. They’ll be monitoring my communications and stuff to make sure I don’t do anything like that again,” she said. “I think Kagrenac might have actually saved me from getting exiled.”

“Kagrenac bumped it down from exile to probation? She really does have a soft spot for you, doesn’t she?”

“I don’t think Kagrenac has soft spots.”

“Go ahead and tell yourself that, but if I’d pulled something like that, they’d have tossed me out to Skyrim without a second thought.”

It did seem strange, but there were a few plausible explanations. Kagrenac might be taking pity on her because of her youth, or might have thought it would look bad from the Chimer’s perspective to exile her. Or maybe she did have a soft spot, but Bthunkagr resolved not to keep testing it until it hardened.

Bthunkagr shrugged. “Regardless, that’s what happened. Just keep it quiet.” She returned her focus to the mechanical arm. “Pass me a nine-toothed gear, please.”


	8. Deception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After getting in trouble for translating her papers, Bthunkagr has some conversations about truth and deception.

### 10 Sun’s Height, 1E 650

For almost two weeks after her conversation with Kagrenac, Bthunkagr stayed away from the archives. It was partly out of embarrassment, especially since the librarians had to be informed of her new sanctions, and partly out of fear of drawing even more scrutiny. But now, a question had arisen in her work that required some research, and so she decided it was time to return.

She noticed Nchuravahr returning books to the shelves as soon as she entered, and the librarian noticed her as well, making brief eye contact and a subtle smile before returning to her work.

Bthunkagr approached the librarian working at the desk.

“I wonder if you could help me find material on the refraction method of tonal analysis,” she asked. She felt extremely uncomfortable, almost childish, asking for help without even being able to start the search herself. But, she supposed, that was the price of her folly. “I know there is some by Irkngalz and colleagues, but I don’t remember the years offhand. Somewhere around thirty-five, maybe?”

“You’re Bthunkagr, correct?” the librarian asked, betraying no emotion beyond simple recognition.

Bthunkagr smiled apologetically and nodded.

“Nchuravahr should be able to help you,” he said, pointing in her direction.

“Oh,” she said, failing to hide her surprise. “Thank you.”

She turned away from the desk and went to where Nchuravahr was working. Nchuravahr stepped down from her ladder as she approached.

“Are you…able to help me find resources on the refraction method of tonal analysis?”

“You sound surprised,” Nchuravahr said. She motioned for Bthunkagr to walk with her.

“Kagrenac seemed to suspect—”

“And yet the inquiry turned up nothing, because I did nothing illegal.” She added quietly, without looking directly at Bthunkagr, “I know how to take care of myself. There are some skills you should learn as well, if you’re going to be following this path.”

They stopped in front of a bookshelf.

“ _Architecture_ , 635?” Nchuravahr asked. She pulled down the journal, plus one on either side, and handed them to Bthunkagr. “See if these have what you need, and we can go from there.”

They headed to a nearby table between a few other shelves. Nchuravahr nudged the sound blocking device with her foot to turn it on as they went to sit.

“So, how did Kagrenac find out?” Nchuravahr asked as Bthunkagr flipped through the first journal.

“I, uh, _forgot_ to mention the sensitivity to the friend I was translating the papers for, and he let it slip to Kagrenac.”

“Ah, you set yourself up for that one,” she said with faint amusement. “It happens. You are new at this, aren’t you?”

“What, breaking the rules?” Bthunkagr laughed. “I think it’s safe to say that’s an understatement. Kagrenac even called it ‘amateur deception.’”

“It sounds like Kagrenac had a point. It’s best to consider all the ways that information might leak to unwanted places, and plan for those possibilities in advance.”

Bthunkagr looked up from the journal. “That’s nice to know now, but I already got in trouble, and I’m already being monitored.”

Nchuravahr made a face. “Are you?”

She suppressed a laugh and turned back to the journal. “Maybe not as much as was intended, but I’m still done translating. I’ve disappointed Kagrenac enough.”

Nchuravahr studied her while she flipped through the pages, only paying half-attention. “Your mentor’s opinion means a lot to you.”

“Of course it does,” Bthunkagr said. “I have endless respect for her, and I only hope to be worthy of her respect in return.”

“‘Only?’”

Bthunkagr looked up with a questioning expression.

“Why do you say you ‘ _only_ hope to be worthy of her respect?’ Isn’t that enough?”

Was it enough? Of course it was enough. Being of value to one’s Chief was the primary way of being of value to the community, which all Dwemer wanted. Still, she had some concerns that were hard to deny.

“It’s almost enough,” she said after a moment. “I just wish I could do some things that I think are right and beneficial to the community—or to the rest of the world, if you’ll pardon my hubris—without damaging Kagrenac’s respect for me.”

“You can,” Nchuravahr said quietly, “as long as you know what you’re doing.”

Bthunkagr marked her page and closed the journal, and looked up at Nchuravahr expectantly.

“Keep flipping,” Nchuravahr said.

“I’ve found the paper I was looking for.”

“Keep flipping anyway! Move onto the next journal or something.” She laughed. “We have a lot of work to do, don’t we?”

Bthunkagr sighed in slightly amused defeat and opened the next journal.

“Depending on your goals, it may be possible to take action openly that’s not technically illegal,” Nchuravahr said. “The problem is that it will affect your Chief’s opinion of you. Probably for the worse. I’ve developed somewhat of a reputation for that sort of thing, but Thumzac is a little more lax about deviations from the social norm than Kagrenac is, and so I can get away with it.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine Kagrenac would take kindly to that,” Bthunkagr said.

“One could also take less overt—and possibly less legal—action when one feels it is necessary, but one must do so carefully.” She shrugged. “Or one could just not. Activism isn’t for everyone.”

“I hate to be weak-willed, especially when it comes to ethical issues, but I already got in trouble once, and I was almost exiled. I don’t expect Kagrenac to stick up for me next time.”

“Is translating your papers something that’s still that important to you?”

“Honestly, not really. Especially because once my friend finds out I got in trouble, I doubt he’ll even want me to keep translating for him.”

“Then there’s no need to put yourself at risk.”

“But what about the larger problem?” Bthunkagr said, looking up from the book. “It’s not just about translating papers, it’s that we treat non-Dwemer like they could never have the capacity to understand what we do, and then refuse to interact with them on any academic level, reinforcing those ideas. It’s that we act like we’re a world apart from everyone else, and then make ourselves so.”

“Go back to your page-flipping,” Nchuravahr said. When Bthunkagr did, she continued, “It sounds like this is something you’re passionate about.”

“I guess, but doing anything about it is dangerous.”

“True, especially if you don’t know how not to get caught,” Nchuravahr said. “But, if one is careful, and one chooses one’s battles wisely, one can do a great deal of good with minimal risk to one’s place in Dwemereth. Do you understand?”

Bthunkagr nodded slowly without looking up from her journal. “But I don’t know how _one_ learns to take adequate precautions.”

“One could consult another with more experience,” Nchuravahr said. “But not today. One doesn’t want to draw even more suspicion. What other papers did you need?”

### 14 Sun’s Height, 1E 650

Sotha Sil’s brow furrowed as Bthunkagr explained the incident with the translated papers the next time she was in Mournhold.

“I am sorry that I caused you to get in trouble, but I wish you had been direct with me,” he said. “I might not have mentioned it to Kagrenac if I had known, but I also would have discouraged you. It is not worth the risk, to you or to the alliance.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you exactly what I was doing,” Bthunkagr said. “I got caught up in doing what I thought was right, and I just hoped it would turn out fine.”

“And I appreciate your efforts, but what is right in some regards might be wrong in others. While I agree that research should be shared broadly, I would not value that over the peace between our peoples, when the collapse of said peace could result in countless deaths. If you are going to take such risks, make sure they are worthwhile.”

“I understand,” she said, nodding contemplatively and running her fingers through her beard. “You’re being nicer about this than Kagrenac was,” she added with a small laugh. “She was…angry, to say the least. And she had this _look_ —well, you probably know it.”

The faint amusement in his eyes confirmed that he did.

“She has more reason to be upset than I have,” Sil said. “She is more directly responsible for your actions. If I understand Dwemeri society correctly, she probably had to answer for you to the other Chiefs.”

“I know,” Bthunkagr said softly. “I really let her down.”

“And yet she is giving you another opportunity to do better, and I hope you will take it.”

“Definitely,” she said, though she was not entirely convinced herself, especially after her recent conversation with Nchuravahr. Still, it was best to make it look like she would be following the rules from now on, especially when talking to a Chimer, who probably expected something less than the truth anyway. Which brought her to her next point. “This sounds naive to say out loud—though I guess we’re well beyond that point by now—but it’s been on my mind for a while. Kagrenac told me not to trust you. The Chimer, I mean.”

“Kagrenac is wise,” Sil said. “It is healthy to have some amount of mistrust by default, and to consider critically whether anything you encounter is true. That is especially the case when dealing with Chimer.”

“That seems like such a difficult default position to take,” Bthunkagr said.

“It does take practice.”

“I can comprehend the concept from a logical point of view, but practically, it takes away the whole foundation of my understanding of the world. I mean,”—she laughed weakly—“how do I know you’re not lying to me now? About needing practice, or anything, really?”

“You don’t,” he said. “Does it matter?”

“I…think so.” It was a strange question, and she wasn’t sure whether there was a correct response. “Doesn’t it?”

“You tell me. If it is difficult to approach it practically, approach it with reason. If I were lying, and perhaps did not need practice to learn how not to trust people, would you do something differently?”

“I guess not. I would still need practice, personally.”

“Do I have something to gain by lying to you right now, about this? Or anything to lose by telling the truth?”

“I can’t imagine you would.”

“Then you can assume that the probability that I am lying is low, but not zero. Sometimes people lie for less clear reasons, or out of habit,” Sil said. “Now, what would happen if you believed me, compared to if you didn’t believe me, if I were telling the truth? And what about if I were lying?”

“If I believed you, then I would probably practice, and if you’re telling the truth, then I would probably get better. If you’re lying, I probably wouldn’t get better. If I didn’t believe you, then I wouldn’t practice, and I wouldn’t get better, whether or not you’re lying.”

“Do any of those stand out as especially beneficial?”

“The first one. I should try to get better.”

“And are any of them especially risky?”

She thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. The other three all result in nothing changing.”

“Then believing me might be the best choice,” he said. “Sometimes certain options will have risks associated with them, and you will need to weigh those risks against the benefits of other options and the probability that the person is telling the truth. Sometimes you will need to prepare for multiple possible outcomes. As I said, it comes with practice.”

“I guess that all makes sense, but you did just convince me to believe you. Shouldn’t that raise an alarm?”

He laughed. “Your skepticism is improving already! Perhaps it should, but I also walked you through the decision-making process. Do you have any qualms about the steps we took?”

“No, it all made sense.”

“Then I will leave you to your conclusion. But I will say this: I do not _want_ you to trust me wholeheartedly. Skepticism is healthy.”

“Right…” She was getting a lot of contrasting messages from this conversation, but she did feel like she could extract some sense of reality. Maybe that was the point. She did feel a little better equipped now for working through deception, though it would absolutely take practice before she had any confidence. Of course, she knew that this was not exactly what Kagrenac had suggested. Kagrenac was probably not happy that she was visiting Mournhold at all, if she knew. But there would have to be a compromise. Bthunkagr was not willing to give up her Chimer friends. She would just need to be careful.


	9. Discretion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bthunkagr accidentally learns something about Kagrenac's personal life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically Bthunkagr's perspective of [Queen of Swords](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23304703) (a Kagrenac/Almalexia fic, note: the linked fic is rated M for fade-to-black sex). So while I'm pretty confident that this chapter is still firmly within what would be acceptable in, say, a PG-13 movie, be aware that there are discussions about sex in this chapter (mostly dancing around it, but some parts are a little more direct).

### 6 Sun’s Dawn, 1E 656

Bthunkagr was equal parts surprised and delighted when Kagrenac had invited her to another First Council function in Mournhold, the first one she had attended in some time. The head of the Andrano family was being betrothed to a Redoran noble for the purpose of forming an alliance, and they had gone to all the formality of holding a grand dinner in Mournhold with the entire allied First Council and friends.

Kagrenac had said that the more Dwemer attended, the happier the Chimer would be, and the stronger the alliance would remain in turn—as if Bthunkagr needed a reason to attend. She was always looking for the opportunity to learn more about their neighbors, even if she had been to Mournhold countless times by now. This particular event was especially interesting because of how foreign the concept was. Political marriages were all but unheard of to the Dwemer. Alliances between clans were common, sure, but they did not need to bind two individuals’ lives together in order to do it. But, then, Chimeri house politics were much more volatile than Dwemeri clan politics. Maybe having an explicit bond between two members helped them to keep the alliance steady. Or maybe it gave the houses a way out, when the couple died. Either way, it was an interesting thing to see up close.

The night was drawing to a close now. Dinner had ended long ago, and the attendees had been mingling and dwindling since then. Dumac had sent his attendants away and disappeared with Nerevar shortly after dinner. Many of the other guests had retired for the night as well. She sat now with Nerevar’s “Tribunal” and Kagrenac on the cushions around a low table.

This was the part that was the most difficult for Bthunkagr. While she enjoyed experiencing Chimeri culture, she was never too sure how to handle the conversational parts. It was especially difficult when she felt like she had to hold up two personas: one for her mentor, and one for the Chimer. She was grateful for the change of pace when Sotha Sil leaned over to her and brought up a topic more in her comfort zone.

“I’ve gotten a bit stuck on the sphere schematics you gave me,” he said.

Despite her relief, however, Bthunkagr was also instinctively nervous to be discussing this in front of her mentor. Yes, Kagrenac had specifically allowed her to share certain schematics that were over one hundred years old, and yes, these met those criteria. But having gotten in trouble before for sharing Dwemeri technology with Sotha Sil, she still worried that even her most benign and legal actions would be viewed with scrutiny. She waited a second to see if Kagrenac was going to intervene, and when she did not, Bthunkagr steadied her nerves and let herself focus on the new conversation.

“Which part are you stuck on?” she asked.

“There are a few parts, actually. My technical Dwemeris is getting better, but without the tones written in, it is still hard to read. There’s one line where I can’t tell if it wants me to weld a piece to the base, or attach the fire arm. I’d hate to guess wrong.”

“Hmm. It would be hard to try to clarify it without knowing more. Do you remember the surrounding context?”

Sil ran his fingers through his hair in concentration. “There was ‘join’…‘fire’…‘body,’ I think…” He shook his head. “I would need to look at it again. Actually, I still have it set up in my workshop, if you wanted to see. Of course, I don’t want to take you away from the party if you’d rather stay here, but…” He gave her a small, knowing smile. It was likely that he had detected her discomfort, and that he was barely more comfortable than she was with so much idle conversation.

“Sure, that sounds great.”

They solved the first problem quickly when Sil showed her the spot in the instructions that had given him trouble.

“That says ‘weld,’” Bthunkagr said. “The construction of ‘fire-join’ like that means they’re to be read together. So that makes ‘fire’ a modifier on the root of a verb—not on the verb itself, mind you: then it would be ‘join firely,’ which doesn’t make sense—so it gets an inverted second tone and a reduced vowel.”

Sil nodded and marked the tone on the schematic.

“I guess ‘arm’ is kind of misleading; it’s not referring to an articulated arm, or else you couldn’t weld it,” she continued. “Over here, where it says ‘join fire-arm,’ that’s referring to the arm with the actual fire attachment. ‘Fire’ is modifying a noun now, so it gets a normal second tone, and no change to the vowel.”

“I see.” Sil made another note on the schematic.

“I can see where it would be challenging if you didn’t grow up with the language,” Bthunkagr said. “You said there was more that you were stuck on?”

“Yes, several parts, actually,” he said, scratching his head in discomfort.

“Do you want to work through it?”

“If you would like to, I would certainly welcome the help,” Sil said. “But I would not want to keep you from the party even longer.”

She waved the thought off. “Show me which parts.”

Sil showed her the next part that was giving him trouble, and they began to work their way through the schematic from there. They had made a bit of progress when Vivec knocked on the open door and leaned in.

“Sera Thun?” ze asked, using the nickname ze had given her to apparently make her feel more welcome. “Serjo Kagrenac is wondering if you’ll be here for a while, or if you’re leaving with her.”

She glanced at Sil, who shrugged and said, “Your call.”

It was getting late, and she did have to work in the morning, but they were making so much progress…

“I think I’ll be here for a while,” she said.

Vivec nodded and disappeared, and then reappeared a few moments later.

“Kagrenac says not to be late to work tomorrow, Thun. And with that, I’m off to bed.” Ze danced the rest of the way into the workshop and hugged Sil, and gave Bthunkagr a friendly bow. “Night, friends. Enjoy your robots.”

They continued working through the schematic, and then, once the sphere was completed according to the specifications and could power up without any problems, they decided to work on modifying it. Bthunkagr provided her own insight beyond what the schematic held—nothing she could get in trouble for, she hoped, but a little bit of fun information that might help Sil understand the machines better. They worked for some time, though they were not sure quite how long until they noticed that the sky outside was showing the first signs of light.

“I am so sorry to have kept you this long,” Sil said. “How much time do you have before you need to be at work? You could go take a quick rest in my chambers, if you’d like. I will stay out of your way.”

She hesitated. She wouldn’t have time to stop home and change if she were to take time to sleep now, but she definitely needed the rest. She would just have to hope that Kagrenac did not notice that she was wearing the same clothes as she had been last night.

“If that would be okay with you…?”

“Of course,” he said.

He led her to his tower in the palace and unlocked the door, and then handed her the key. “Shall I come wake you in, say, an hour? I will keep better track this time.”

“That would be great. Thank you, serjo.” She bowed, nearly losing her balance in her tiredness, and went inside.

She was awoken some time later to a knock and Sotha Sil’s voice on the other side of the door. She was not exactly refreshed, but the nap was still better than nothing. The sun was fully visible now, though still low in the sky. As long as she kept up a reasonable pace, she should make it to work on time.

Sil waited outside while she got ready, and then they both went down to the main floor for breakfast. Queen Almalexia was already there, looking elegant and relaxed, with her curly red hair flowing down past her shoulders. Bthunkagr felt self-conscious in her day-old, wrinkled clothes and exhausted demeanor. She noticed another mer to Almalexia’s side, and froze. Kagrenac.

Why was she still here? Had she decided to wait for Bthunkagr after all? Had Bthunkagr unknowingly kept her up waiting all night? Had she stayed behind to make sure Bthunkagr made it to work on time? _Avatheled,_ did she suspect that there was something going on other than constructs between her and Sil, and had she stayed in Mournhold to provide some sort of supervision and express her disapproval in order to make sure it never happened again?

She almost wanted to turn around and slip back out the door before she was detected, but both mer noticed them enter and looked up. Kagrenac looked about as uncomfortable as Bthunkagr felt.

"Kagrenac,” Bthunkagr greeted her mentor with as much poise as she could muster. She straightened her back and gave her a Dwemeri bow. She continued in Aldmeris, despite being impaired by both her tiredness and nervousness. “I—This isn’t—We weren’t—”

To the side, she thought she noticed Almalexia and Sotha Sil exchanging a conversation of glances and shifting eyebrows, but her attention was too focused on her current predicament to figure out what they were discussing.

Kagrenac held up a hand. “There is no need to explain yourself,” she said. “I was just leaving. Please, take your time.”

Without another word, Kagrenac stood up from the table and left the room, leaving her barely-touched kwama eggs behind. Almalexia followed closely behind her.

Bthunkagr stood frozen for a few more seconds, and then went to get food of her own. Sil sat down next to her once they both had their breakfast. He looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped himself. They began their meal in an uncomfortable silence. Finally, he said, “I wouldn’t worry too much. Kagrenac likely has other things on her mind, and if she does have any…concerns, Almalexia will be able to tell her that nothing, ah, happened here.”

Bthunkagr was not sure what specific “things” Sil thought Kagrenac would have on her mind right now, or why Almalexia would know that nothing had happened—unless that was what their eyebrows were discussing earlier—but she had to take what reassurance she could get.

Almalexia returned when they were almost done eating. She started to pull her hair up into a bun with one hand, while reaching into her pocket with the other. When she came up empty-handed, she glanced toward the door, gave an amused sigh, and let her hair fall back down.

“Need a magic tie?” Sil asked quietly.

Almalexia gave him a dangerous look, but pulled her hair back up. Sil waved a hand, and when Almalexia released her hair, it stayed in place. She nodded her thanks and sat down at her original seat, across from Bthunkagr and Sil, and resumed her meal.

“You look tired,” she said to Bthunkagr. “Why don’t you get some tea? Our alchemists make a lovely brew that will restore your energy.”

“Oh, thank you, serjo, but I should probably get home.”

“Please, I insist. What sort of hosts would we be if we sent you out of Mournhold without so much as tea?”

Bthunkagr took the hint this time and smiled. “Thank you, serjo. I think I will.” She wasn’t sure if the insistence was to keep her in Mournhold for some reason, to get her away from the table for a few minutes, or both, but she supposed their exact reasoning did not matter much.

The cadence of hushed conversation and the occasional peal of laughter that carried over to her while she ordered the restorative tea supported the former possibility. While she waited for the flowery brew to steep and tried not to doze off, her own thoughts wandered back to the awkward encounter with Kagrenac. She sincerely hoped Kagrenac understood and believed her when she had tried to say that nothing was going on. Not that Kagrenac was the rumormongering sort, but she would still hate to have people think she was sleeping with a Chimer on the First Council.

Her tea finished brewing. She picked it up, thanked the alchemist, and returned to the table. Sil had finished his breakfast while she was gone, and stood up to leave when she sat down, picking up Kagrenac’s abandoned plate in addition to his own.

“I am going to go get some rest,” he said. He turned to Bthunkagr and gave her a friendly bow. “Thank you for all of your help, and I apologize once more for the inconvenience.”

“No trouble at all, serjo,” Bthunkagr said.

She wondered if she was expected to leave as well, but Almalexia had seemed to want her to stay, and now looked like she wanted to say something. Bthunkagr cautiously took a sip of her tea and tried not to look like she was waiting. The tea was hot and very sweet, almost to the point of hurting her teeth. It was not wholly unpleasant, but it was also not the sort of thing she would choose to drink under normal circumstances. She much preferred Dwemeri _nchultham_ —earthier blends of roasted spices and roots—for restoring energy. She continued taking small sips without any expectation that she would get through enough to make use of its restorative effects.

“Kagrenac meant that, about taking your time,” Almalexia said at last. “I’m sure you can stop home and get cleaned up before work. In fact, I think she’d prefer it.”

“Oh, that’s…helpful, I think. Thank you, serjo,” Bthunkagr said cautiously. “Do you know why she was here overnight? Does she think—”

“She wondered,” Almalexia said, “but she understands now that nothing happened. Not that she would have had a problem if anything _had_ happened, but I think she would have wanted to give you your space. As for why she was here, we were looking over some paperwork, and it got late. She decided to spend the night.”

_Paperwork?_ Bthunkagr wondered. What kind of paperwork would they have been working on so late at night, after a party?

“ _Oh._ ” Now it started to click into place. The eyebrow conversation, the awkward exchange followed by the quick exit, the missing hairpins, the desire for space. It was Kagrenac whose personal life was at risk of spilling into her work life. “I’m sorry to have pried. I didn’t realize. I should have realized.”

“Nothing to apologize for. It was just paperwork,” Almalexia reiterated with an easy smile. “Just give her the time she needs to debrief.”

“Of course.”

Almalexia slowly cut off and ate another bite of her kwama eggs with practiced casual elegance, as if there were nothing uncomfortable hanging in the air. Bthunkagr tried her best to match her demeanor, but she was not a queen nor a diplomat, and had little practice putting on such appearances.

Finally, Almalexia continued. “Best not to mention the paperwork to anyone, though,” she said. “We wouldn’t want anyone to start asking questions about confidential First Council business, naturally.”

“Right. Absolutely.” Bthunkagr kept trying to act as nonchalant as Almalexia, but ultimately settled for taking several more sips of tea, just to give her hands and face something to do.

Almalexia’s nonchalance was finally replaced with warm amusement. “You’re not used to this, are you?”

“Not especially,” Bthunkagr said with an uncomfortable laugh.

“That’s all right; there’s not much to it. Just don’t offer any information—true or fabricated—without being asked. If someone does ask, feign ignorance. If they press, speculate about something that anyone might know. Consider it this way: in this situation, it would be harder to explain why you know, than why you don’t know.”

Bthunkagr nodded slowly, trying to commit those instructions to memory. They sounded straightforward enough, but she was not sure she trusted herself to know exactly what to do in the moment.

Almalexia seemed to detect her hesitation. “Let’s practice,” she said. “I’ll be you, and you be—Do you have any especially nosy coworkers?”

Bthunkagr tried not to laugh as her mind went directly to Mzinbthar. “Yes.”

“Excellent. I’ll be you, and you be them. Ask me a question, like, ‘Why do you think Kagrenac is late today,’ and just keep pressing.”

Bthunkagr put on her best Mzinbthar voice. “Hey, why do you think Kagrenac’s late today?”

Almalexia-as-Bthunkagr shrugged and looked at her as though it was a strange and somehow funny question. Bthunkagr made a note of that face to try to replicate it if needed. “I have no idea.”

“Weren’t you both at that party?”

“Yeah. Maybe she was tired?”

“Hm. You sure look tired.” Here, Mzinbthar would probably add some comment about the Chimer and their parties, but she left that out. “Did you leave together?”

“No, she was still there when I left.” Almalexia put her own voice back on and added, “I almost forgot to mention: sometimes you’ll just need to lie. You can handle that, I’m sure?”

“I…think so.”

“Good. Let’s trade places. You be yourself this time, and I’ll be your coworker.” She considered her words for a moment, and then laughed. “I’m sorry about this, dear, but I’m going to give you the worst case scenario.” She motioned for Bthunkagr to lean in as though she was about to tell a secret, and then said in the same voice that Bthunkagr had been using for Mzinbthar, “Heard Kagrenac fucked Almalexia.”

Bthunkagr nearly choked and mumbled in her regular voice, “You weren’t kidding, were you?” Then she continued in the voice she would use to deal with Mzinbthar. “Did you?”

“Yep, heard it was the talk of the party. You were there, weren’t you?”

“I was.”

“So? Did you see them?”

She raised her eyebrows. “ _See_ them?”

“See them, hear them, notice them canoodling, whatever?”

Bthunkagr shrugged and shook her head. “I was sitting with them for most of the night. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.”

“Hm,” Almalexia-as-Mzinbthar feigned disappointment. “Well, that’s boring. Did you leave together?”

“No, I actually stayed the night.” In her normal voice, she whispered, “Is that okay? I figured he’d wonder why I look tired, anyway.”

“Of course that’s okay, as long as you can stick to it,” Almalexia said with a laugh. As Mzinbthar, she continued, “So Kagrenac went home last night?”

“I assume so.”

“You didn’t see her?”

“No. Why are you so interested in Kagrenac’s sex life?” That phrase alone almost made her cringe.

“Come on, can you imagine the drama? Everyone knows about Dumac and Nerevar, and now _this_?” Almalexia broke character and smiled. “That was good, turning it around like that. I think you have more experience with this than you let on, but I won’t pry.”

Bthunkagr relaxed from her acting and ate the last few bites of her meal, while Almalexia did the same.

“Well, I won’t keep you too long,” Almalexia said when they had finished eating. “You seem to understand the sensitivity of last night’s paperwork well enough. Go home and take a bath if you need, change your clothes, give Kagrenac a little more space.” She stood up and picked up both of their dishes. “Do you need an escort?”

Bthunkagr also stood up. “No, thank you, serjo.” She bowed. “And, uh, thank you for…your help.”

Almalexia smiled. “Thank you for your discretion.”

* * *

On the walk to Bamz-Amschend’s recall station and the ride from Duumvanch, the capital, to Kagrenzel, Bthunkagr reflected on everything that had transpired in Mournhold in order to prevent herself from falling asleep. She was glad that Kagrenac had given her the extra time, not just because it would allow her to clean herself up and change her clothes, but also because it would have been a very uncomfortable trip home if they had made it together. As it was, she was not looking forward to seeing Kagrenac in the lab today. She wondered if Kagrenac knew that she knew why she had stayed. Bthunkagr would not bring it up, of course, but it might feel like a kagouti in the room. Or maybe it would never come up and they could all forget this day ever happened.

The revelation was surprising, though. She had not thought of Kagrenac as the type to even tolerate the Chimer beyond what was required of her, let alone choose to engage with one like this. She wondered if it was an ongoing arrangement, but it seemed unlikely. It was true that Kagrenac had always seemed more comfortable around Almalexia than the others, but it did not strike her as the type of comfort that lovers share. Sil’s reaction, however subtle, also gave her the sense that this was a surprise to him, and he seemed close enough to the queen that he would know about the goings-on in her life. She also assumed that it would not be handled quite so discreetly if it were an established relationship, considering the way Dumac and Nerevar acted. Sure, their relationship wasn’t “official,” but it was no secret—even Almalexia had noted it when acting as Mzinbthar. She couldn’t imagine Almalexia needing to keep her extramarital affairs more of a secret, unless it was at Kagrenac’s urging.

She shook the thoughts from her head. That was enough ruminating on her mentor’s personal life.

Bthunkagr managed to get home without falling asleep on the way. Her bed looked very soft and tempting, but she ignored it. She may have been given a short grace period, but she knew she would not have time to sleep for as long as she would like to. Instead, she took a quick bath, put on a change of clothes, neatened her hair and beard, and headed for the lab.

Kagrenac was already there, which was to be expected, since she had left Mournhold a while before Bthunkagr did. She seemed to notice Bthunkagr enter, but returned her attention to her work without any firm acknowledgment. Instead, she waited until Bthunkagr was settled into her work to come talk to her in her aurally-isolated workspace and placed a mug of nchultham on the bench.

Bthunkagr straightened up when she saw Kagrenac and the nchultham. “Oh! Thank you,” she said, trying to sound natural.

“Did you get any sleep?” Kagrenac asked.

“Only an hour or so.”

“Don’t work on anything dangerous or requiring precision, then,” she said. “It’s fine if you need to make today a paperwork day.”

Bthunkagr must have involuntarily balked at that, because Kagrenac sighed and rubbed her forehead. “That’s what Almalexia said, isn’t it?”

Bthunkagr made an apologetic face and nodded.

“So she talked to you, then? That’s good. And you understand the need for discretion?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good. Any questions before we never speak of this again?”

If they were on more equal ground, Bthunkagr might have had a number of questions, but she settled for one that was within her place. “Is everything clear on my end? That we were just discussing pre-approved construct schematics?”

“Yes, that much has been thoroughly established,” Kagrenac said. “Not that it would have been a problem. You can make your own decisions.”

Maybe her exhaustion was limiting her filter, but Bthunkagr decided to risk a light jab. She hoped Kagrenac would tolerate it for argument’s sake, if nothing else. “You did warn me to stay away from the Chimer once.”

Kagrenac gave her a dry look that slowly transformed into an equally dry smile, and finally laughed. “I did. I would stand by it, but I admit my argument would be weaker now. Anything else?”

Bthunkagr shook her head. “No, everything is clear.”

Kagrenac nodded as if to signal a conclusion. “Then may we never speak of this again.”


	10. The Heart of Lorkhan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kagrenac invites Bthunkagr and colleagues to work on a project of great importance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine that Duumvanch is what becomes known as Citadel Dagoth Ur, and Kagrenzel is what becomes Tureynulal. And it's not relevant in this specific chapter but the Dwemeri Academy is what becomes Odrosal.

### 3 Sun’s Dusk, 1E 659

Bthunkagr and Mzinbthar’s work on a construct was momentarily interrupted when the sound wall was broken and Kagrenac entered the workspace. They set their tools down and straightened their posture, waiting to learn why she approached them.

“I would like both of you to come to my auxiliary laboratory in the capital tomorrow morning,” she said. “I have a new project that you will be working on.”

They nodded their assent, and she turned and left just as swiftly as she came.

Once she was on the other side of the sound wall, Mzinbthar mumbled in a dry voice, “Are we getting demoted?”

“Why would you think that?” Bthunkagr asked.

“What’s there to do in an auxiliary lab? All the useful materials and people are here.”

“Hmm.” He had a point. “And here I thought we were doing well.”

“Me too. Maybe she’ll have us working on something purely theoretical? I guess that wouldn’t be too bad. As long as it’s not some diplomatic garbage like scientific communication.” He made a face as though he had realized something terrible. “Oh, that’s your thing isn’t it? Ugh, maybe that is what she’ll make us do.” He sighed. “I don’t even want to think about it anymore. Pass me the spark rod.”

* * *

Duumvanch, the Dwemeri capital city, was not far at all from Kagrenzel, the home of the Chief Tonal Architect’s main lab, and the city where Bthunkagr lived. Though Bthunkagr did not visit the capital often, it was only a short trip via underground transit system to get there the next morning, barely longer than her usual commute.

She arrived at Kagrenac’s auxiliary lab and saw another mer with wavy dark hair, whose features were highlighted by bright makeup, waiting outside. Bthunkagr vaguely knew her from the main lab: she was Mzualamz, another of Kagrenac’s researchers. They had not spoken much before. She was not even sure what the mer’s specialty was.

Mzualamz greeted her with a warm smile.

“Did Kagrenac also tell you to meet her here for some new project?” Bthunkagr asked.

Mzualamz nodded. “Any idea what we’ll be working on?”

She had a pleasant voice, Bthunkagr noted. Harmonic, as though she could identify and produce exactly the right frequencies to avoid any discord. But maybe that was just Duumvanch’s acoustics.

“She didn’t say. Mzinbthar seems to think it’s something like scientific communication.”

“Scientific communication?” She seemed surprised, but shrugged. “I suppose that could be interesting.”

Mzinbthar arrived a minute or so later, followed by Kagrenac, who unlocked her auxiliary lab and invited them inside. It was larger than Bthunkagr expected, given what Mzinbthar had said about all the materials being at the main lab. There was still a forge and a wide assortment of tools, most of which looked to be of high quality.

However, they did not stop in the main workshop. Kagrenac led them out the back door, through some hallways, down a staircase, and onto a conveyor mechanism that led them down another hallway. It grew hotter with each turn, and eventually Bthunkagr realized that they must be going deeper and deeper into Red Mountain.

Mzinbthar must have come to the same realization, as he signed, “Maybe she’s just going to kill us,” out of Kagrenac’s view.

Bthunkagr rolled her eyes and pushed back her worry that that might indeed be the case.

As if she could hear their concern, Kagrenac finally spoke. “I know this distance is inconvenient, but the source of this project is not easily moved.”

“May I ask what the project is, while we travel?” Mzinbthar asked.

“You may not. Not until we get there. It is of a confidential nature.”

That was enough to leave them to their introspection until they finally arrived at an especially sturdy looking door at the end of a hallway, at what had to be the very core of the mountain, and Kagrenac brought them to a stop. She pulled out a key and pushed its body into the lock, pressing the pegs in some complex sequence to cause it to resonate with the lock at the right frequencies in the right order. The mechanism clicked, and she pushed the door open, ushered them in, and closed and locked the door again behind them.

The first thing Bthunkagr noticed was the pit of lava.

She began to worry again that Mzinbthar was right, until she saw something suspended above the lava. The chamber was so huge that she had no way to determine how big or how far away the thing was, but it looked like—she squinted—a heart?

“You are all familiar with Lorkhan, correct?” Kagrenac asked. “Shor, if you’ve spent time around the Nords.”

“From the children’s stories?” Mzinbthar asked, arms folded across his chest.

“The stories of the creation of Mundus, yes.”

Bthunkagr was relatively familiar with the tales. “He tricked the Aedra into sacrificing most of themselves to create Mundus, and so they ripped his”—she faltered for a second as she began to put it together—“heart out and shot it down to Nirn, where it was said to become Red Mountain.”

Kagrenac wordlessly gestured toward the heart in the pit.

“You think _that’s_ Lorkhan’s heart?” Mzinbthar asked.

“More than ‘think,’ Mzinbthar.”

“Sorry. Of course.” He shifted uncomfortably under her warning glare.

“That Heart was the life source of one of the highest et’ada, and it still contains that life. I’ve tested it.” She paused to let the gravity sink in before moving even further. “I propose that we harness that energy for the good of our people.”

“How?” Mzualamz asked.

Kagrenac motioned them into a much smaller workshop connected to the main chamber, where she had laid out a number of schematics.

“A construct grand enough to hold an entire race of souls. From our individual pieces, we create a new entity that is greater than the sum of its parts.”

“You can’t just smash all of our souls together and retrieve the original gradient from all the little subgradients,” Mzinbthar said.

“I do not plan to retrieve the original gradient. We will be creating a new one, a harmonic unit, unique, and beyond those entities the other races call ‘gods.’ We will transcend our Mundial state and save our people from this world of danger and suffering and… _mortality._ ”

“You really think we can accomplish that?” Mzualamz asked softly.

Kagrenac looked at her, and then at each of them, with such sincerity, even a vulnerability that Bthunkagr had never seen on her before. “Without a doubt. We can and we will. We just need to work out how. This is not a quick or simple project, but we _can_ do it.”

Kagrenac moved onto the explanation for why she had brought the three of them here specifically. They would be working under her directly on this project, and leading smaller teams of their own. Whereas Kagrenac’s focus would be largely on the construct itself—the Numidium, as she was calling it—the three of them would be helping her create tools to manipulate the Heart and its energy. She had already determined that the Heart resonated with the purest tones, but they needed a way to get to them.

“What’s this thing’s fundamental Tone, then?” Mzinbthar asked.

“One,” Kagrenac replied.

“ _One?_ ” he repeated incredulously. “As in, ‘Fifteen-and-?’”

“Correct.”

“ _Avatheled_ ,” he muttered, and it did not sound like an observation. The One Tone was something rarely, if ever, seen in nature—or synthesized, for that matter. It was the closest thing the Dwemer had to myth.

“Well, naturally, I can work on a tool to extract the pure tones,” he said.

Kagrenac nodded, as if entirely unsurprised that he would choose such a task. Bthunkagr assumed she would have the same reaction to her suggestion.

“I can work on a tool to fragment the tones.” It was no wonder Kagrenac had invited her to be part of this project, given that she had been working on such techniques since her Academy days.

And indeed, Kagrenac simply nodded again.

Mzualamz hesitated. “Is it safe to deal with an…artifact of this power? Would a mortal not be obliterated by direct contact with these sorts of energies, or even by the tools that would be needed to manipulate them?”

“Perhaps,” Kagrenac said. “Expand on that thought.”

“I propose a tool to protect the user of the other tools—or anyone who interacts with the Heart—from harm.”

“That will be difficult,” Kagrenac said. “There is not as much precedent for that sort of tool as there is for the others.”

“I know,” Mzualamz said with a small smile. “But it’s a worthy goal.”

Kagrenac matched her smile. “Good. Then our tasks are clear.”

She set them up with keys like the one she had used to open the chamber door and taught them the complex sequence to make them resonate properly. They would still be spending most of their time at the main lab in Kagrenzel, but she also attuned them to the recall device outside the chamber so that they would not need to trek all the way into the mountain every time they needed to check on something. She emphasized the confidential nature of the project—while it might be exciting to think about what they were doing for their people, the project was still in its infancy. It needed to remain hidden from most of society until the details were clearer and they had something substantial to talk about. Even the research assistants that they recruited from the lab to work under them would need to be given only what information they needed to know to accomplish the task before them.

Although it seemed that Kagrenac had picked the three of them because of their specialties more than anything else, Bthunkagr was nonetheless ecstatic to be recognized by her mentor and trusted with a project that was clearly incredibly important to her. The goal of the project seemed reasonably noble, too, but Bthunkagr was much more focused on how to contribute as much as possible. Over the past several years, she had come up with some schematics for a tonal fracturer that an individual could use, possibly even carry. She had not gotten far in trying to implement any of her ideas—new theoretical questions were always coming up, and tended to take priority—but now she had the perfect opportunity. She wondered how efficient such a tool could be. She would have to keep informed of what Mzualamz was doing. If Mzualamz was going to be working on a tool to protect the user of the other tools, then Bthunkagr’s would have to be smaller. If the protective tool was to be some sort of suit, then Bthunkagr could get away with a tool to be carried in two hands. If it was going to be more like a glove, then Bthunkagr would need to create something small, a knife to slice the tones.

It occurred to her later that if this plan went smoothly, it would be the last project she ever worked on. That is, unless the proposed ascended state were very much like Mundus, but she doubted that. It was an odd thought, to say the least. She wondered how much information would be shared with the general population as the project progressed. Would they understand Kagrenac’s goals? Would they have enough time to prepare? These questions floated in her mind, but they were quickly left behind, drowned out by the cacophony of ideas for her contribution to what would be her mentor’s greatest work. Whatever she did, she knew that she could not let Kagrenac down.


	11. Nchultham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bthunkagr and Mzualamz go on a couple dates. Mzinbthar acts as their wingmer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of fluff before Bthunkagr starts to understand the weight of the project she’s gotten involved in. (Ftr the fic isn’t going to focus on their relationship any more than Bthunkagr’s non-romantic relationships. It’s just one more important connection in her life.)
> 
> “Mzualamz” comes from “mercy” + “many”(/“much”).
> 
> “Nchultham” is basically Dwemeri coffee (and yes it does come from “power fruit,” or maybe “fruit power.”).

### 24 Evening Star, 1E 659

“So. Mzualamz, huh?” Mzinbthar said, barely glancing up from the body of the construct he had brought to her workbench for some yet-undisclosed reason. He waited until Bthunkagr raised an eyebrow in question. “Cute, isn’t she?”

Bthunkagr shrugged nonchalantly. Sure, Mzualamz was “cute.” Her hair looked soft and fluffy, and she did her makeup in a way that accentuated her lips, which would curve just slightly into a smile whenever she looked at her, and those warm eyes that would make her feel like there was nothing more important in the world than what she had to say. And then there was that melodic quality of her voice…

“I guess,” she said. “Why, do you like her or something?”

“ _Me?_ No. She’s definitely not my type. And besides, she’s practically your age.” He looked pointedly at Bthunkagr.

“You’re asking if _I_ like her?”

“Yes, obviously.”

She felt herself blushing, which was unexpected. Probably just a result of being put on the spot like this. “I don’t—Why would I—I’ve never really put much thought into it. Stop making that face!”

Mzinbthar did not stop making that face.

“Let’s get lunch, shall we?” he asked.

Bthunkagr sighed and followed him out of the lab. They went to the cafeteria that they frequented on work days, a few halls down. They got their usual lunches and sat at a table off to the side. Mzinbthar looked around the room and then back at Bthunkagr.

“She’s not here. Spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill!” Bthunkagr said. “I’ve never really thought about it before.”

“Then why are you blushing?”

“Because I’m uncomfortable.”

“Come on, there’s more to it than that. Put you two together and the room starts vibrating with practically audible harmonics. You could probably cut it with that knife you’re working on.”

“I hardly even know her yet.”

“I’m not asking if you’re getting married. I’m asking if you think she’s cute.”

“I already said she’s cute,” Bthunkagr said. “She’s pretty. She has nice hair. And face and stuff. And a pretty voice.”

“Nice hair, face, _and_ voice…” Mzinbthar repeated. He took a sip of his fungal tea. “You’re in deeper than I thought.”

“What? No, maybe I’m not making myself clear,” she said. “I mean she’s objectively pretty. Anyone would look at her and say the same.”

“And I’m sure anyone would also get flustered whenever she talks to them?”

“I… _was_ going to say that, yes. She’s nice. She talks to me like she cares about what I have to say.”

“ _Avatheled_ , Bthunkagr,” he said with a laughing sigh. “Did all of your intelligence go to academics?”

“Most likely.”

“You think everyone gets flustered whenever someone is nice to them? Do _you_ even get like that with most people?”

“No,” she admitted after a brief pause. “Probably not.”

“And do you think most people get just as flustered when you’re nice to them?”

“No…Wait. Are you suggesting she likes me back?”

His eyes and smile widened. “Oh, ‘back?’”

“I mean, do you think she likes me—” She threw up her hands. “Yeah. _Ur ahrk_. ‘Back.’”

Mzinbthar set his tea down and sat back with his arms crossed and a satisfied smile. “Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve already told you what I’ve observed. If you want to extrapolate from that, feel free.”

“But you think she gets nervous when she talks to me, because she likes me?”

He leaned back in to return to his meal. “I’ve _observed_ that she gets nervous when she talks to you. I’m not going to ascribe cause to anything. That’s your job.”

Bthunkagr sighed and took another bite of her guar stew. “Why did you even start this conversation, then?”

“Please, did you really expect me to just let you two figure it out for yourselves? Just look at you and your interpersonal critical thinking skills.”

She ignored the latter jab. “So you do think there’s something to figure out?”

“No comment. Are you done yet? We should get back to the lab soon.”

They finished their meal with little more discussion and returned to the lab. Bthunkagr tried not to notice Mzualamz on the way in, whose workspace was a few benches away from where she and Mzinbthar worked, but she did notice that Mzualamz seemed to be discreetly watching them. Mzinbthar turned toward Mzualamz and away from Bthunkagr in an obvious attempt to sign something without her seeing. She thought she noticed Mzualamz smile, but turned away and continued toward her workbench, not wanting to feel like she was spying on a private exchange.

“Subtle,” Bthunkagr commented when Mzinbthar made it back to her.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “Hey, why don’t the three of us get drinks tomorrow? We can give it the thin pretense of talking about the big project, or getting to know our teammates, or something.”

As much as she wanted to be annoyed by his meddling, Bthunkagr could not help but appreciate what he was doing. As long as he knew when to stop. “Sure, that sounds great.”

“Great. Mzualamz is already on board.”

### 25 Evening Star, 1E 659

Mzinbthar agreed to come to Bthunkagr’s apartment to help her get ready and settle her nerves shortly before they were all meant to meet that night. Although he tried to roll his eyes at her nervousness and feign disinterest, he did have opinions when it came to what she should wear.

“This isn’t actually a work thing, you know,” he said.

“Of course I know that.”

“Right, so you don’t have to wear a lab frock.”

“It’s not a—”

“You could wear something with, you know, any shape to it. You are trying to get Mzualamz’s attention, right?”

She sighed and tried on a slightly tighter robe made of midnight blue linen, with some simple brazen embroidery around the cuffs.

“Better,” he said. “A little plain. Do you have jewelry or anything?”

She adorned herself in a number of bracelets, necklaces, and rings, all made of brass, but each with its own shape and design.

Mzinbthar pursed his lips in contemplation as he looked her over. “Yeah, I think that will do. It’s not like you’re going to a debate or something. What about your hair?”

“What about it? I’ve already touched up the roots; it should all be an even purple.”

“Yes, but are you just going to wear it up like that?”

She assumed “yes” would be the wrong answer. “What do you suggest?”

“Let me braid it while you do your makeup. Do you have any more beads? I can make it match your beard.”

“Sure, right here,” she said, indicating the bowl of beads on the dresser.

“Great, thanks.”

Bthunkagr turned her attention to the makeup in front of her, trying to decide which colors to wear.

“Oh, is it not obvious?” Mzinbthar asked when he noticed her brief hesitation. “Gold eye shadow, purple eyeliner and lips.” He turned his attention back to her hair. “ _Avatheled_ , were you really going to just wear a tuning fork in your hair?” He sighed and shook his head as he took the fork out and set it on the dresser in front of her. “You’re lucky you have me.”

* * *

The bar where they were to meet was in the second quadrant of Kagrenzel, next to the residential quadrant. They managed to arrive a few minutes early, which was shocking, considering how much time Bthunkagr had spent worrying. They went in and found seats while they waited for Mzualamz.

“You know,” Mzinbthar said after they ordered drinks, “before you asked me to help you get ready, I considered showing up late to give you and Mzualamz time to chat.”

“Glad I asked, then.”

Mzinbthar shrugged.

Mzualamz arrived a couple minutes later. She wore a rich green robe intricately embroidered with geometric patterns. Her hair was tied back in a braided ring, and her lips, where Bthunkagr’s eyes inadvertently landed, were painted a bright copper. Bthunkagr caught herself staring and pushed her gaze up to Mzualamz’s eyes, where she almost got lost again. Mzinbthar picked up the slack.

“Mzualamz, so glad you could make it! Please, join us,” he said, gesturing to the seat next to Bthunkagr. While she was getting situated, he leaned in close to Bthunkagr and whispered, “Are you trying to be obvious? Because you’re succeeding.”

“Bthunkagr, you look so pretty,” Mzualamz said once she was seated. “I love how you did your hair.”

“Oh, thank you!” She began to gesture toward Mzinbthar and give him credit, but a kick in the shin told her that he wanted his contribution to remain anonymous. She dropped her hand and tried to quickly find something else to say. “You look very nice as well. That’s a lovely shade of lipstick.” She tried not to cringe. Was that too forward, or would it only be too forward if her attention to Mzualamz’s lips were already established? She took a sip of water to hide her discomfort.

They made some conversation throughout the night, mostly carried by Mzinbthar, who seemed to be the only one even remotely at ease, as well as being very determined for the discussions to flow indefinitely. They started with some questions about each others’ history, as “getting to know each other” was still the pretense of the gathering. Mzinbthar, who was apparently over a hundred years old, told them that he had been working in Kagrenac’s lab for over fifty years. He had graduated from the Dwemeri Academy around age fifty and stayed on as a researcher in his advisor’s lab for several years before being recruited by Kagrenac.

“I didn’t actually go to the Academy,” Mzualamz said when asked. “I studied medical engineering at a less prestigious university near my clan’s stronghold, north of here. I worked in that field for a few years, but eventually realized I was interested in tonal architecture. I considered going back to school, but decided to seek out internships instead. That was shortly after being Named, too, which is sort of awkward. But anyway, I learned that Kagrenac had some sort of internship opportunity for people like me, and I went for it, and somehow got it. I started out as a junior researcher until I could get certified, and, well, I guess it all seems to have worked out.”

“Did Kagrenac Name you?” Mzinbthar asked.

“No, Charunac did.”

“Oh, she must _hate_ that. She loves to Name her architects.”

Mzualamz shrugged, but smiled. “I just hope it still suits me. Despite leaving medical engineering _per se_ , I do still have an interest in helping people, and I try to let that guide my work even now.”

“I can tell,” Bthunkagr said. “When Mzinbthar and I jumped right into focusing on the technical details of the new project, you expressed concern with making sure everyone stayed safe, which really seems to be the, uh, _heart_ —if you will—of the project. It’s no wonder Kagrenac picked you. It sounds like the skills you had before you got to her lab complement what you’ve learned since then, and so you can offer a perspective that the rest of us can’t. It’s admirable.” She took a sip of her drink to ground herself. She knew she was blushing again, but she was less concerned this time. Maybe she was trying to be obvious after all.

Mzualamz was quiet for a second, still looking at her with that same expression of complete attention. “Thank you, Bthunkagr,” she said finally. “I’m glad it comes across that way.”

* * *

The three of them walked home together at the end of the night. They reached Mzinbthar’s apartment first, which Bthunkagr was sure was slightly farther from the bar than Mzualamz’s was, but he had led them along a slightly atypical route to get there. Bthunkagr understood what he was doing: his initial plan to give her and Mzualamz time to talk at the beginning of the night had failed, and so he had made a point of shifting it to the end. Once again, she wanted to be annoyed, but she had to appreciate the assistance, and the craftiness with which he went about it.

The two of them continued walking toward Mzualamz’s apartment next. It was quieter now without Mzinbthar carrying the conversation, but they continued some of their earlier topics, interspersed with periods of silence. When they reached Mzualamz’s door, they stopped, and Mzualamz turned to face Bthunkagr.

“Well, tonight has been enjoyable. I’m glad we had this opportunity.” She hesitated. Her eyes lowered for a moment, and then returned to Bthunkagr’s. “Can I be honest? I asked Mzinbthar to arrange this. I wanted the chance to, uh, get to know you in a more casual setting.”

Bthunkagr thought back to Mzinbthar’s claims of “mere observation” and “not ascribing cause,” but her thoughts quickly moved on to the fact that this was happening.

“Now that that’s out there,” Mzualamz continued cautiously, “maybe you’d like to do something like this again sometime, without our chaperone? Say, get some nchultham this weekend?”

Despite being a little lost in Mzualamz’s gaze and the situation as a whole, Bthunkagr managed to say, “That sounds great.”

Mzualamz looked delighted, her pretty copper-painted lips breaking into a bright smile. “Great! In the meantime, I’ll see you in the lab.”

“Right. See you tomorrow.” Bthunkagr’s head was swimming now, and she struggled to find any more words. She broke away from Mzualamz’s gaze for long enough to regain some coherent thought. “Good night, Mzualamz.”

“Good night, Bthunkagr.” She gave her one last smile laden with excitement and went inside.

So Mzualamz really did like her, enough to arrange this pseudo-date? And it went well enough that she wanted to go on a real date next time? Bthunkagr was half-tempted to go back to talk to Mzinbthar, but she knew it could wait until the morning. He would probably be expecting a full report then anyway. She walked the rest of the way home like she was driven by the Calling, her mind so completely on the events of the night that there was no room for attention to her environment.

* * *

It took less than a minute for Mzinbthar to cross the sound wall into Bthunkagr’s workspace when she arrived the next morning.

“So?” he asked. “How was the rest of your night?”

“We have another date this weekend,” Bthunkagr said, deciding to get right to what he wanted to know. “And she told me about how she asked you to organize last night. So, thanks for doing that for us. It looks like it’s actually going to work out.”

“Of course it’s going to work out,” he said, as if it were ridiculous to think otherwise, but his face brightened up again quickly. “But that’s so exciting! You’re going to have a girlfriend!”

“That feels premature.”

“It’s not,” he said definitively. “Mzualamz isn’t the type to date without a reasonable expectation that it will last.”

She looked at him curiously. How could he know that already? “Did you know her well before this project?”

“No,” Mzinbthar said, “but I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

“Okay, what am I like, then?”

“In this area? Cautious, for one. When’s the last time you were in a relationship?”

“A few years before I graduated from the Academy.”

Mzinbthar nodded as though that made perfect sense. “And of course you haven’t been with anyone casually since then, either, because let’s be honest: one, you’re a nerd, and two, I would have heard about it.”

Bthunkagr started to wish she could take the question back.

“So now you’re obviously nervous, because you’re also not one to approach these things with irreverence,” he continued. “That’s why I say it’s going to work out. Neither of you is the type to jump in unless you expect it to go somewhere, and you’ve already caught each other’s attention. It’s going to be great.”

“I’m glad we have your stamp of approval, but I think I’m going to rely more on my own observations,” she said.

“Of course you are,” he said. “Like I said, you’re cautious. So what are you wearing on your next date?”

“I don’t know yet. It’s just nchultham, so probably nothing quite as fancy as last night.”

“There’s nothing ‘just’ about it. Do you want my advice?”

She shrugged. She did not want to admit it, but his advice had been invaluable so far. “Sure.”

“Skip the purple makeup this time. Well, you can wear a lighter purple on your lips if you feel compelled, but not the eyeliner. You can wear your hair up if, and only if, you do not wear a tuning fork.”

She wondered if he would ever let her live that down. “As for clothes?”

“I’m getting there,” he said. “Wear something a little lighter in color than yesterday—maybe metallic tones. You can wear a multi-piece outfit if a robe feels like too much. Some jewelry is good; too much jewelry is bad. No mantles or cloaks or flowing sleeves. You want to look like you _meant_ to dress casually, but happen to look nice anyway.”

She nodded along, mentally trying on possible outfits. She was sure she could throw something together that met those specifications.

“Got it?” Mzinbthar finally asked. When she nodded again, he smiled. “It’ll be great.”

### 28 Evening Star, 1E 659

Bthunkagr took Mzinbthar’s advice, arriving at the nchultham-thand in a light golden two-layer tunic and a long skirt draped with thin brass chains. As instructed, she did not have a tuning fork in her hair, instead opting for a long braid. Mzualamz met her at the door, also looking “casual-but-nice.” Bthunkagr wondered whether she too had gotten advice from Mzinbthar, or if it was really that intuitive to everyone but herself.

They got their nchultham and sat down at a small table. Bthunkagr had been worried that without Mzinbthar to carry the conversation, they would end up in a series of awkward silences, but it went better than she expected. Maybe Mzualamz had prepared some topics, or maybe they were just getting more comfortable with one another. Whatever the case, her worries fell away to be replaced with a less guarded enjoyment.

Their talks continued long after they had finished their nchultham. When it was finally time to end their date, they decided to walk each other home. They kept up their easy conversation the whole way until they reached Mzualamz’s apartment, where they stopped and turned to face each other, and the words trailed off to a comfortable silence.

“Thanks for coming out with me,” Mzualamz said after a brief pause.

“Thanks for inviting me. I’ve…I’m enjoying this.”

Mzualamz smiled brightly, absently, as she seemed to be the one to get lost in the gaze this time. She laughed after a few seconds and apologized, and her expression shifted into something more intimate. Bthunkagr was nervous until she spoke again.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked softly.

Bthunkagr’s stomach spun, but she nodded eagerly and took a small step in. Their lips fit together like a pair of matched gears, but Bthunkagr was suddenly hyper-aware of her hands. Should she keep them at her sides? Embrace Mzualamz? Touch her face, run her fingers through her hair? It wasn’t as if she had never done this before, but it had been years, especially since her last _first_ kiss.

Less than a second of this contemplation passed before she felt Mzualamz’s arms wrap around her waist. Bthunkagr all but sighed with relief and wrapped her own arms where they would fit, higher, around Mzualamz’s shoulders. The kiss lasted several more seconds—really, it was a few shorter kisses in a row—until they broke apart and Mzualamz looked at her again with that same bright smile. Her hand came up now and lightly brushed against Bthunkagr’s cheek.

“See you soon,” she said. She hesitated, and then gave Bthunkagr one more quick kiss and bright smile, and turned and went inside.


End file.
